A Bit of Verse for Edgar
A short little thing sketched out after a stroll through Westminster Hall
Two Graves Upon your death They laid to rest Your remains among The dust in a grave unmarked. For twenty-six Years undisturbed — These years were perhaps The first to offer you peace. Alas, the spade Came slicing through The pale sediment — Your damned bones to be reclaimed And reinterred Under a big Monument of stone: Something more worthy of you. And yet I dare Imagine you Hungover, scolding The poor gravedigger as if It were his choice To wake you up — Resurrect you just For a different dark tomb