MichaelAndrew Doyle - Cold Moon

Cold hollow bones blow the wind
the moon shorn and chalk dusty
looks on. Undefoot crushed dead
flowers bleed a last bitter scent.

Graveyard glimmer edges the stones
by edge and line they trace a name.
Here, where once was warmth is
now just your dust eternal.

MichaelAndrew Doyle

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cold-moon-2/