Epitaph

I read, engraved, your name in stone,
your face, flesh-contours carved in stone.

The sapling's now a tree full-grown
but still my heart is cold as stone.

The sun shines as it's always shone
on grass and leaf, on dirt and stone.

There's no flesh here, just naked bone
can bones lie dreaming under stone?

Last night, I lay in bed alone
you called my name from under stone.

I thought I heard the patient groan
of earth beneath the weight of stone.

On silent shores of seas unknown
dead spirits thronged to quays of stone.

They'll sail where wind has never blown
their hopes cannot be crushed by stone.

All boats are summoned to the throne
so on your grave, I'll leave a stone.