Song of the Epitaph

Song of The Epitaph In the small garden surrounding her grave He sees flowers that are withered and dead Just like his poor lover who lies underneath The memories start whirling inside his head He remembers how she laughed when alive He remembers how she loved in their bed He remembers all the things she said to him And he remembers things that he never said He never said how much he really loved her He never said how he’d feel if she were gone He never knew how long the pain would last And never knew how the misery would go on ‘I’m writing my own epitaph’ She explained She was sat at the table in their living room He never thought that just a few weeks hence The words would be chiselled onto her tomb He shivers, but he does not feel the cold wind He is numb with sorrow, doesn’t feel anything He reaches and fumbles around in his pocket He lifts the golden chain which holds her ring He looks through the ring, sees a midnight sky A huge waxing moon of pastel yellowed light It fills the hole through which he reminisces And he softly whispers her name into the night He hears a voice softly singing, who can it be? Words from her epitaph are drifting in waves He realises with a jolt, it’s her voice, but how? Her song is echoing amongst dark silent graves The soulful sound is getting louder, ever closer A song of the epitaph, so smooth and so sweet All of his senses are telling him to look down The graveyard soil pushes up beneath his feet..