Cemetery

I captured slow life and know it well
like the back of my broken hands
we accept our solace cloaked
as friendship gripped by time
and modern man,
A liar holds a fractured posture
that says it best when nothing at all
graced in patience and blessed with fear,
scratching at my door
I can feel there's movement
after fading grey and silence pass
like a shadow losing contrast
as the night crawls over last
but life is surrounded by flowers in bloom,
slowly dying,
age is cursed and I’m trapped in a dark oak casket
driven by a hearse
My eyes are filled with the years of regret,
I can't take back.