The Image Of Death

There are weeping hibiscuses
Just before the wrought-iron fence
On the low land… And
Tombstones upon tombstones
Where lie mortal men.
There is a funeral procession
Coming down from the sandy hill,
There is also the image of death
Swaggering its head, and
Proudly so, pointing
At the next mortal
To come back on his back.
Suddenly it turns to me and says:
“When men exhaust their stay
On earth, they come here.
They rest and sleep awfully still”.

4 thoughts on “The Image Of Death” by Chime221 (@Chime221)

  1. This image of death is like that of a chatty stranger in a bus.
    Nice and simple lines.
    Well done, Chime. $ß.

  2. Like that os chatty stranger in a bus…

  3. aptly captured

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