The Final Path

cuba cemetry for poem

Slowly, slowly,
advancing with tender steps,
emitting clouds of scarlet
with each tremulous breath,
the golden child
humbly crept

Brazenly her locks tumbled,
shrouding her shoulders
in a champagne veil
and the dusky angels
turned their heads In envy
as even the spiders silk seemed coarse

Heavy shadows blurred
the silvered path she trod,
where startled dandelions
puffed their clocks,
though time stood still
and sunrise never came

In the placid grove
where soft grasses
solemnly bowed,
the lilac air filled
with the songs of souls stirred
by an unfamiliar beat

And as they watched
that unknown child,
her iridescence faded,
turned to pearl translucence
as, with grace, she slid
into their ethereal embrace

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4 thoughts on “The Final Path

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