A place I often think about
In the stillness of the night
While stars seemingly twinkle
While the sun shines brilliantly
Birds dance in the sky
Singing melodic speak to one another
A place that has its history
Scorched and chipped into
On walls of stone
If one cares to look
They will find little mysteries
Of life, and love and mortality
Interesting to think about
Such a place as this
Tucked neatly away
From frequent perusal
A secret place only a few know
And even then they do not speak
Little stories told upon the ancient rock
A name is there, and what a name it is
Amongst all the stories and figurines
It is death himself personified
Immortalised in stone
29 November 2003 |
