graveyards and moss/lichen

Headstones casting silver shadows by the light of the moonBats circle overhead making their tiny noisesThe shadows creep along and stop as the passerby noticesMoss grows over the oldest graves like carpetOwls perch and watch as if judging their intentThe wind seems to whisper to youJust low enough to be a mysteryThey call out toContinue reading “graveyards and moss/lichen”

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