Larry's poem

Check out Larry's wonderful poem (Make sure you comment on his blog so he posts the rest of it!)

If you don't have a Friendster account, you can read Version I here.

The Pall

The wind whispers so gently,
On a warm morning in July.
In a corner of the cemetery,
A woman slowly strolls by.

Her cane taps the ground,
With every step she takes.
She stops when she has found,
Remnants of a life of heartbreaks.

Her frail hand quivers and shakes,
As she removes her black shawl.
Sadness appears the moment she wakes,
Covering her like a black pall.

She bows her head to see
The epitaph written in stone.
...