Halls of the Dark Muse

My Heart Upon A Bier

My heart upon the bier
cast among rose thorns
and wilted laurel,
their colors bleeding
into one.

Bore away
to slowly be sunk
within its grave
upon a day
of dismal gray.

Weeping clouds
like the trees
alone to bear witness
as it is set down
among the dirt and stone.

Caked in dust
as if forgotten,
it has seen its last day
of growth.

No longer fertile,
as the day comes to a close
it shall now rest
encased in the darkness
and cold.