My Coffins.

In this graveyard
in my backyard
where black birds sing
on the angels wing
and one tree grows
between the woes
of a thousand dusty coffins.

Full moon rise
above those cries
I wonder at the hill
from my little window sill
where that one tree grows
between the woes
of a thousand black coffins.

I shake my head
I should be in bed
but I can clearly see
something’s calling me
a hopeful sight
on this full moon night
by the thousand dingy coffins.

I go outside
as time I bide
shoes crunching on frost
and my soul still feeling as lost
as it had all day
as though I should stay
with the thousand dusty coffins.

I thought on all things I lacked
this and that
but I kept up mine eye
to the silhouette on the sky
of the tree that grows
between the woes
of a thousand black coffins.

My heart grew colder
and my footsteps older
as I made my way
I heard them say
"If he has Time to gain
why should he complain?"
from a thousand dingy coffins.

Angrily
I reached the tree
wondering at its girth
this tree I've known since birth
yet I never took the time
to listen to it's whine
down by the thousand dusty coffins.

And it dawned on me
since now I see
green apples grow in this graveyard
the tree that’s in my backyard
it doesn't just grow
between the woes
of a thousand black coffins.

I plucked it down
watching its shining crown
as it glowed
my tears flowed
I realized light grows
between the woes
of a thousand dingy coffins.