Winter of a Life
I leash the dogs and head into red dawn,
puffed breaths of frozen air.
Beware the icy slip,
Branch and bush mostly bare.
So odd to see
the tall trees and green grass wide,
lines of stones resting cold and silent.
There are tiny Christmas trees,
even citrus fruit,
Offerings to the dead.
The gypsies pay homage with coke cans
and coffee mugs, toys and take-out.
Messages from the living all,
to lives now cold and silent.
My brother is not planted here yet,
his ashes in a small wooden box.
The gravestones stay cold and remain silent.
It is best this way.
The living can tell their stories
and bury the ones they don’t want to hear.
The dead know the final truth,
their stones stay cold and silent.
Short bio: Diana is a writer, poet and blogger based in Northern California. She blogs to pay the rent at http://www.blog.nichemediahq.