In Front of My Prospective Grave

The calendar has turned to another year, and ready or not, 2022 is already here. Monday’s Poem of the Week seeks your indulgence, as I travel down memory lane. This poem was written over fifty years ago, and as poetry goes, it has to be forgiven, as it represents a young man’s effort to learn his third new language, while trying to understand the questions of life.

In Front of My Prospective Grave

The grass will not be fresh in the least

There will not be a hump on the lot –

But the passers-by will be compelled

To stop and take a look at the spot.

The inscription on the memorial plaque

Will be data, no special meaning –

But a wildflower will indicate

That underneath I continue dreaming.

This entry was posted in America, Death and Dying, Poetry, Thoughts & Musings. Bookmark the permalink.

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