someday late or soon

Someday late or soon
an ascendant pubescent sun
will illumine a grassy, hackly tomb-yard
scattered with roses withered,
withering or plastic,
and moss-matted, acorn-raining oaks,

and all my loves, musings, and hates,
passions and conditions,
feverish nights and song-lit days
will in silence rest...

no more concerned
with what is worst or best:
all joys given to memory,
all pinings consigned to rectangular pine,
all worries sunk into
six feet of still serenity...

someday late or soon