I Meet with a Deadly Audience

Peaceful, a slight breeze,
cold marble monuments rest.
Bodies faded away, most with ease.
Changes come with seasons.

At twilight, Bo and I shuffle.
We watch the fog settle.
Voices are raspy, quietly muffle,
hover over houses of death.

Fear does not freeze my senses
in this city of skeletons.
There is a serene calm,
surreal silence of holy spirits.

Ashes to dust, their polite demeanor,
so very rarely interrupt.
Most listen with grave respect
to my poetic musings.




By Kathie Stehr
edited 2011