The stone wept
The angel did a dirty little deed
Things we knew were forgotten
And the sun poured ashes on his head
The butterfly fluttered
In a dreary pale of light
A slug slithered across a stone step
Past his brother
Dried to a crisp from yesterday's sun

Yesterday's sun
How bright it was
Like a smile never before seen
Our bones were confident
Not chilled as now
By the icy glare of the darkness

I remember the telling
But not the joke
The hair
That hair is everywhere
And the voice
That says nothing
But will not stop saying it