Remains Untitled -is the title

By Bridget Innes

his beauty the moths did know
mockingbirds never could catch his sound
mounted were the butterflies
as he lay beneath the ground

but her bones wont bring him back

the shadows all were fading
as the sun hung over head
dried up were the ink wells
oh how the paper bled

and this world is on it's back

she mulched the family plot to protect her roots
but the stones are so narrow
her feet were made of soil
perhaps she'll try again tomorrow

for his bones will bring her back