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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #2095831
A Monsignor's work is never done [Free-verse epitaph]

The Monsignor’s Grave

Fair maiden, mourn not for this mortal man.
Death comes to even those who preach of life.
The journey to eternity is swift,
and dying is the only route required.

Now, neath the earth my rotting flesh doth lie,
interred in crimson robes prescribed by rank.
Yet through these sculpted stones and statuettes,
my spirit wanders seeking sheep to save.

‘Tis odd to find a congregation here—
souls lost between the living and the dead.
Fair maiden, mourn not for this mortal man,
for there’s still work to do before I rest.

*Fencebl**Fencebl*   *Grave*   *Fencebl**Fencebl*

Spoon-River Verse: Free-verse epitaph in the form of monologue of the dead
© Copyright 2016 Winnie Kay (winniekay at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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