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Scattered Cedes

by Mike McClean 10 months ago in sad poetry
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by Mike McClean

April 2020

I lie awake at night in

a sylvan graveyard,

misleading memories

towering around me -

precursors of an uprooted

and molded mind,

left behind to pursue

some greater nostalgia.

Their lives were no more mine than

their thoughts, their aspirations

a flickering light at the end

of an evergreen pier.

What right have they

to decompose my heart

with the senescence

of their discontent?

I rot on while they grow on

the wooden showroom floor,

carcasses splayed

for scavengers to pick apart,

tearing desiccated truths

from severed limbos,

leaving a magically

woven carpet of loose ends.

I once marveled how the sun

crowned the heads of tall men -

now I seed the forest for the fallen...

sad poetry

About the author

Mike McClean

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