04 Oct At the Graveyard
Cold slaps from bitter, chilling wind
Snap strands of hair around my ears.
My tears spill forth
Through years of pain.
Some stranger’s name there etched in stone.
Dead deeds forgotten, vanquished schemes
For dreams held dear
Death deems the cost.
Not for the lost, but how I’ve lived
My life in fear is why I cry.
To die unloving,
by prem sangit
August 6, 2003