SET IN STONE revisited

There is an old cemetery:
The place where the dead go. 
One grave has nice fresh pink flowers
To whisper that somebody is missed. 

Not many graves, but very old stones
Broken and chipped stones set in tired dirt 
Seen through windows of houses that 
Line that still street.

Some houses set way back
As if to separate the living 
From the dead. 

And then, I saw a children's swing set,
And the sun trying to peek through
To perhaps lift a sense of deep gloom.


 ©  2015 Marjorie Levine

MELANCHOLY revisted

Every week for years

I felt this way... or that way.

On one cold January melancholy day,
Under threatening skies, I wore my balaclava.

And in the distance, I imagined or imagined not
That I heard Chopin's Nocturne Op. 55 No. 1.

© 2015 Marjorie Levine