The Curtain that Waved  
by James Lynch Bridson

A curtain waved past this morning,
It kept walking on and on.
When it reached the graveyard,
Things started to go wrong.

The gravestones started to walk,
The grass started to talk;
The curtain, in shock, fell over,
And the trees seemed barely sober.

A curtain waved this morning,
I wish that I'd waved back.
I'm afraid he's in a cave by now,
Stuck there in a crack.

From The Early Poetry of James Lynch Bridson edited by No-one,
but with Copyright © 2009 asserted by James Lynch Bridson