Cafe Mocha

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Graveyard of memories

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Her body is a graveyard.
A collection
Of unmarked graves
Of unknown soldiers
From unknown wars.

Her body is a graveyard.
A collection
Of unknown ghosts.
All those shot
By the single bullet.

Her body is the graveyard
Where life still exists
Fresh as the flowers
Sprouting from their graves.

Her body is this graveyard
Where forever they lie buried.

Written by Karuna

September 18, 2006 at 5:46 am

Posted in Idea Space

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