Ancient and Eternal

The green grass blows
hard, bent to a side.

On this knoll grows
a carved oak, high,
ancient and eternal.

forever sighing
in the summer,
and rustling in the cold,
call to me.

I will bury
my loved ones here
when I find it.

Then I will remember
their love and cry
as my tears sink
beneath the grass
and feed the ancient oak.

When I can cry no more,

I will stand,
first-seeing myself,
so ancient,
yet merely mortal,
and find someone
to bury me
where my dear friends

had gone.

©️ Obol, 2020.

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