I went walking on that day

past straggling tombs

hawthorn gripped

where limestone and  marble

shot dull glances as

time had furrowed these streaking brows

     

      and steadfast pets stood proud but chipped

      to sense those long lost hearts

      and memory of owners gone ahead

      where ramblers walk among the dead.

 

Remote mausoleums, museums

of the everlasting soul

sarcophagi in regency rows

nestled in where earth exhales

and steps cut in to guide us on

each new level pressed the spirit

to view the next leviathan.

 

      Then of a sudden a patch of earth

      newly marked just tempted the sun

      as it sadly lit some monoliths

      and the beds of leaves turned orange and gold

      like the dying of a tale untold

 

and I saw a simple wooden cross

with a piece of cardboard fixed thereon,

and in rough black pen ALEXANDER LITVINENKO

resting uneasy my body moved on.