Gone


The leaves whisper softly as they light upon the ground,
At the place where he is lain, as the wind sweeps all around.
Encircling the cold bed that has now become his home,
His entire life reduced to the cryptics of a stone.
There was so many stories kept behind his furrowed brow,
But his sweet, soft voice is stifled and it speaks no longer now.
He is gone.


---  by Rebecca Babb, Texas Tech University