Graveyard

Tyrone Graham
Poets Unlimited
1 min readJul 29, 2017

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Yearning for
its secluded sleep
in the boughy shade,
it waits: forgotten
fairy dell
that it is, where
grass tufts grow greener
as they skip down
the rain-rounded uncovered
bed, unoccupied, undisturbed
among the sprinkled yellow
and purpling blue
flowers; the weeds, too,
rank with color.
The peace of the place —

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Tyrone Graham
Poets Unlimited

In the beginning was the word. And I got paid for it.