The Undead Past [a poem]
By Laura Fox | Featured Contributor
She sleepsΒ
Beneath a stoneΒ
With pallid lips sealed tight.Β
But when come shades of nightΒ
Then forth, alone,Β
She creeps.Β
Her wanΒ
And ghastly frameΒ
Should, ages since, be dust βΒ
Yet, after death, she must,Β
Despite the same,Β
Live on.Β



