The calling of the grave.

The calling of the grave.

A Poem by andrew mitchell

Hearing bells
eyes talk
monoliths whisper
I'm in a yard
the smell of cut grass
trampled under feet
a cold wind blows
in the blue sky above
clouded memories wander.

© 2019 andrew mitchell


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Added on December 1, 2019
Last Updated on December 1, 2019

Author

andrew mitchell
andrew mitchell

adelaide, Australia



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Strindberg said. " When I come home and sit at my writing table, then I live.... I live, and I live in manifold fashion of all human beings. I depict; I am glad with the glad, wicked with the wicked,.. more..