Carved In Stone

As I approach the cold stone,
I feel the wind brush my cheek.
An owl sounds in the distance.
Leaves rustle at my feet.

A wave of sadness rushes over me
As my finger traces the stone.
The coldness of the night
Sends shivers down my spine.

I look down at the dead flowers.
A reminder of the truth.
A reminder of the past.
Dead.

Incapable of holding in the tears.
I collapse by the tombstone.
Weakened by reality.
Weakened.

My fingers trace the letters.
Numb and cold.
There, is written my name.
Carved in stone.

© Fighter