I Dreamt...

i dreamt...
i was dead,
and they'd buried me
on a hill with
a small stone marker.

and i watched
as seasons passed,
one by one,
in constant rhythm...
the years went by.

and no living being
ever visited my graveside,
except for black crows...
again and again,
black crows!

the caw of the crows!

poem by Eric CockrellReport problemRelated quotes
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