Playing silence in the tombs, the catacombs in the yard of death.
The yard where children dare not play.
Do you think they're frightened.
Maybe not enlightened.
For they don't understand  that the peaceful sleep at the other side of the tracks.
The train flashed by,
Electrical storm
The rook perched on the stone angel,
Her role, death's scavenger,
She's not out to ****.
Just seen the carcass of the beige rabbit,
The one curled up, seemingly sleeping,
In the midst of the grass,unattended.
Sleeping it was not,
it died wild in the surburban cemetery.
And so the rook swooped.
(c) Livvi