I know not whose bones these are, Or how they came to be In this dark, forbidding land Where freedom is not free They could not be a solider Who fought the endless war Those bones were all cremated And spread across the moor A merchant is more likely For they are prone to roam Throughout the barren country Without a solid home But where is their caravan? Why were they left behind? Was their death organic, Or had it been designed? I dare not disturb their rest To solve this mystery Instead, I'll say a prayer For their delivery "May their spirit find its way Through the eternal night Coming to the golden shore To rest within the light." I know not whose bones these are Buried within the peat But I know without a doubt That soon, our souls shall meet.
If you enjoyed this poem, then you will enjoy my upcoming poetry collection By The Bones! Coming Halloween 2020!
