Reclining in the Crypt Below

reclining in the crypt below

Reclining in the crypt below,
Her face lit with an immortal glow.
The earth above sprinkled with tears;
Mourners unite, recounting the years;
The sun sweeps, casting a deadly shadow.

The crowd carries on, grasping cloths of woe,
Spadefuls of earth taking its toll.
The empty form, devoid of veneer;
Reclining in the crypt below.

The sun decides it’s time to go;
Signals the moon cloaked by her shadow.
The crowd disperses; a broken sphere;
Darkness approaches — dead man’s profiteer —
As the lunar reflection reappears;
Reclining in the crypt below.