Did He Rise Again?
A crimson rose was growing on the grave.
What did it symbolize? I was afraid.
Next day, a coal black rose joined it.
I felt dread in my stomach like a pit.
Friends said “Who is buried there?”
“There is no grave marker anywhere?”
I didn’t have a clue about this.
“Ask the graveyard keeper with the lisp”
I asked him and his face grew pale.
“Don’t ask about that one.” He said with a wail.
“Why not?—- Please tell me more.”
He looked like he wanted to run out the door.
“That is the grave of a known grave robber.”
“He lived in the scary house up on Hobbler.”
“It is said he was creating a monster.”
“Like Dr. Frankenstein. It caused a stir.”
“From the body parts of the recently buried.”
“It was a gory time. And pretty hairy.”
“Some say his monster killed him.”
“Others say the monster is buried within.”
“You know how the rumors grow.”
“It all happened some time ago.”
“Who planted those roses on the grave?”
“What roses? Oh no!! Run, he is leaving his grave!!”
With that, the grounds keeper took off like a bat.
He didn’t even take the time to get his hat.
“What the hell?” we all said.
That night, we were afraid to go to bed.
The next day, there was nothing there.
No roses, dirt somewhat disturbed, but bare.”
We watched the papers for any news.
Nothing came of it. Pick and choose.
Just urban legends at their best.
It was the holiday of when he was laid to rest.
——————————————R.W. Johnson—–(2019)