Tale of a twisted dawn

They’re mourning her, but she’s not dead
Down in the graveyard.
A hole dug, 6 feet deep
Mud piled up by the great oak tree.

All dressed in black, vales cover their faces
Down in the graveyard.
Sobbing fills the air.
Ashes to ashes.
And dust to dust.

Lay the body to rest.
Smiles ironed out,
rivers start to form
The end of a day,
the start of a new dawn

by chazie
posted on 04/23/2008