In the graveyard where I live, at every dawn,

when the first shadow falls across the lawn,

whilst the wind whispers mournful melodies,

bizarre skeletons dance… wakening memories…

Into an endless loop they hop, skip and turn,

each wears a daisy chain, each carries an urn

and softly - whilst tearing the daisy-chain they've got -

they chant in unison: "He loved me… loved me not!"

Like snowflakes on the graves fall many petals

adorning my rib cage, like tinkling medals

and I with agony cry 'neath the lot:

"Oh yes I loved you all… oh no! I loved you not!"

Around the tombstones painfully I crawl,

into each grave I despairingly call.

Tears in my sockets turn from cold to hot;

"Oh I loved you truly! oh no!… I loved you not!"

In the graveyard where I live, at every dusk,

when the last shadow falls across the dust,

whilst the wind whispers mournful melodies,

bizarre skeletons dance… dying memories…

©  Peter J. Oszmann  (1975) Revised 2003