I walk at night among the crosses,
cherubs,angels and others buried there.
I pause, I kneel, and I listen to the
whisperings of the silent souls
buried so long ago.
They call to me, Vincent we know
you poet and want you near, to share
our sorrows that linger with us still.
You lived a life of despair, how dare
you hide from us forevermore above
us towering with your life intact, yet
humble as it is, not fair.
We want you here among us to share
what you left in your youth,
we know dear Vincent you met your
demons and survived.
But now you must come forth and join
us in the chorus line and sing with us
the life we all lived and cut short our
lives for want of more recognition
among our fellow-man.
Sylvia, Poe, Keats, Lord Byron and
even Shakespeare linger here among
the dead you walk among in sorrow
Come share my friend and lay your
quill down for a while, let the ink run
dry, flick out the wick and let the wax
drip to the floor.
For who cares but us your fellow
poets who once lived among the
living but we are now all dead.
© Copyright Vincent Moore 2012. All Rights Reserved.