Eden Ends

    Angel wings, unfit to fly,
    of glossy granite, smooth as glass
    gave me pause, to ponder why, 
    such a thing, was meant to last. 

    I stood alone, in misting rain, 
    and upon the grave, I cast my eyes. 
    I wondered, belatedly, about their pain, 
    and how it was, when, someone dies. 

        stories lost,
        memories dust, 
        battles fought,
        coffins rust. 

    and where once, was their garden, 
    is now just a wood, 
    and the mighty oak is guarding,
    where the garden stood.
	
    now dust is wiped from the stone,
    whenever someone goes, 
    but the garden, that was his own,
    is only dusted, when it snows. 

                 S[[im 10/9/05