far end of the graveyard

cant find it for tall weeds

but why did I come here?

thorn pricks, leg bleeds

 

this grass needs cutting

Billy always was a liar

there's daffodils dead

more blood from a briar

 

should have put on a coat

hurt me when he strayed

its starting to snow again

not only me he betrayed

 

trips on a trailing bramble

marble knocks her for six

wakes to a crowding dark

crimson leg a tongue licks

 

cant move, flakes descend

always so terrified of foxes

I'd be safer tucked in one

of these wooden boxes

 

care home's out searching,

mobile for a guest so old,

they'll find her tomorrow,

wreathed in weeds, cold