The Graves

Wild ivy creeps out from terracotta cracks

Hollow stones hold names snatched by falling sand

Yew wicker expands overhead

Murmurs and mumbles spread the tales

Simple fables spoken by treasonous tongues

They warn of madness burrowed deep inside

Wisdom of their forbearers given to each new soul

One rule set to follow for the next grave keeper

Eternity is the only witness to the fate of the keeper

Known to her of how silvery whispers tug to break the rule

Penumbral shades tempt the gaze

Labyrinth twisted from briar and stone

Argent crescent weeps as will is frayed

Before the keeper stands a solitary grave

Broken they move like a puppet on strings

Pale eyes intake the forbidden letters engraved in granite

Upon the dawntide a body is strung from the gates

Body painted by sanguine

Within the cycle another comes to gate

Advice is given once more