play Graves—Because isn’t Room—Besides—it isn’t even—it slantsAnd Peop — Emily Dickinson

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We do not play on Graves—Because there isn't Room—Besides—it isn't even—it slantsAnd People come—And put a Flower on it—And hang their faces so—We're fearing that their Hearts will drop—And crush our pretty play—And so we move as farAs Enemies—away—Just looking round to see how farIt is—Occasionally—

Emily Dickinson

Related Authors: Emily Dickinson

Related Topics: death, poetry

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