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Poetry by Tom Stanley
 


 

 
Gravedigger

 

Forever quiet;
The wind blows,
But it makes no sound.
A cloudless sky;
Hazy with city smog,
And humidity.
A scorching day;
Hotter than hell,
Pure liquid heat.
The sun beats down on me;
I stand so very tired,
Sweating like crazy.
I dig this hole;
Six feet deep,
So deep yet so shallow.
I work away;
Until one day,
The hole I dig may be my own.

© Tom Stanley

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