The muse strikes…

Snowfall in the Cemetery

The flurry subsides; a delicate alabaster blanket spreads over the field of finality.

Moonbeams dance across the graves, the silence as pristine as their snow-white hue.

A gentle winter breeze dances among the tombstones like a spectral coryphee.

There is tranquility on this side of the veil; yet, in the quiet of night, the dead still make their presence known.

© 2022 by The Twisted Libra

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