Garden of Stone

On a cold winter’s night,

I lay my head to sleep.

I dreamt I walked a garden

To a nipping autumn breeze,


And on the ground were crested

The coloured leaves of elms.

And all around me loomed

A million and one gravestones.


Some were old and some were new

Of blue and marbled stone,

But on every one there could be read

A child’s forgotten dream.


I bent my head and wept

When my eyes beheld the last,

A lovely, bright gravestone

Of an old familiar past.


For all at once I saw,

The name upon the grave,

Wondered how it could have been

That my dream should end this way.

(Published: Top 10 in A Celebration of Poets anthology, Spring 2009)


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: