Walking With The Dead
J
john tiong chunghoo
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I could feel them -
a whole hill of merriment
quiet laughter
reverberating in the
last dusklight and
an evening breeze
that speaks to the
bone of its chill,
longing and age
my heart races
between goosebumps
and the archaic letters
on the tombstones
feet cold and nudging
like a winter solstice
silver moon negotiating
its way through the clouds
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