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