Sitting against J. Hopkins tombstone, a late 1700s freed slave. To my left lies his wife Ella, God she sure was brave

At my feet are the headstones, of all her babies graves.

I'm watching a bat dance against the dusks, pink yellow white and blue twilight sky

I can feel its anticipation, as i'm sure it can feel mine.

There's a owl hooting, in the woods not far from me. I can hear it in his voice, he knows we'll soon be free

But not for the day birds, in their prison they will sleep.

As the frogs and crickets chirps, comes from what seem to be all around. The sky begins to blacken, as i lay my white candle down

The deer grazing in the field, celebrate without a sound.

Now i light my candle, whos light the headstones seem to bar. I thank God for the country sky, that boast so many stars. But no i'm still not free, no not thus far

AAH theres my freedom, as i reach for my guitar W.A.M.

reading your words I could see it all.

Thank you

This is so beautiful, but my only comment would be that I don't think the punchline fits it at all.

I also don't comment on most of the things I read. I enjoy your cadence.

Awesome write on so many levels.

Thank you plastic pancakes I appreciate your feedback
Thank you up2us that made my day

Welcome back old friend..

Thank you and welcome back to you too. I hope life is treating you well.

beautiful

So powerful, these words of yours!