Winter Solstice

The hopelessness of a graveyard,
Lying sodden to the very bones beneath.

Tombstones wet black, stand sentinel,
Guarding graves to lives long gone

Bare branched trees drip tears of despair
to pools of misery on rain soaked soil.

Clusters of rotting leaves, liked decaying wreaths
Mourn the passing of life.

And an enveloping damp mist
Holds melancholy in its thrall.

The winter solstice