The Creaking Oak

The creaking oak limb
The footsteps fade
The old gravedigger hoists his spade
He beelines from your lonely patch
A shiver in the shade

A silence settles
Where you are laid
Friends & kin their farewell’s bade
Your last resting place
Your coffin stock in trade

Your eyes a blur then sharp!!
What is this masquerade?
All dark and airless, quite afraid
You’re sealed into a dead man’s tomb
You explode like a grenade

The oak limb creaks
This darkening glade
The old gravedigger’s lonely footsteps fade