Thursday, October 31, 2013


The grey cemetery
Remained hushed
That Halloween night-
There was a new occupant you see.

A slight, unmarked grave
Down the rill where the
Poor, the indebted, and
Ruffians were planted in their seasons.

"Who is this new Sleeper
In our city of the dead, Mayor Bones?"
"His name is Feyd, an orphan soldier
Killed by cannon this very day."

"Fielded, dressed, and dropped herein,
We grieve this boy, abandoned
In death the way he was in life,
Wrapped in a patched tarpaulin."

The wind rustled a hollow hymn
As the minor woodland creatures
Marched forth to the cawing beats
Of the mountain birdland band.

Some carried white rocks,
Still others ported red or blue
Fronds from Pastor Alan ferns.
Their effort, by morning, took shape.

Sunup revealed quite a sight.
Down in the castaway plots
A magnificent flag draped grave
Caught the eyes of all passers by.

A rough hewn marker
Had even been instilled.
The bird peck inscription read
"Here Lies Dear Hero Feyd"

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