The wind chimes move to tell a story

They dig in through every nook in gravel

Stones are left unturned at the moment

Like they live on the other side

Moving past people who painted in vain

Moving past memories engraved in pain

Moving in and moving out

Never tiring of it all...

So, I say, in a grave tone

Thetruth that lies, well, undone.

I know the myth, I know the story

that in the graveyard lies home.

To have a life and to give one too

And make space for breathers in the womb

And to lie there still etched in glory

The wind chimes move to tell a story.