Mozart-Requiem

Night finds me outside the cemetery gates, without recollection of travel or where I had been.

In rising of the moon I see you just the other side, behind a freshly dug grave with a headstone of Israel marble.

You seem as out of place as the stone itself. Antique gold polished slab with a name yet to be placed as your foreground, draped in crimson velvet trimmed in a black French seam.

Smiling in welcome, as if you’re expecting me; as if I am running late for an appointment.

The fog travels the grassland to greet me, opening the gate inward as if to indicate my entry.

Clearly, I am dreaming for this place does not exist in my time or town.

As I turn to leave, you call my name, asking me to join you.

The trickle of concern begins to strike my hearts' pounding.

The trickle of concern begins to strike my heart’s pounding.