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Moonlight
Standing alone in the graveyard, bits of cloth he held, in his trembling hands.
Moonlight Bits of cloth which he took quietly, and respectably, from the dead women's silk dress.
Crushed silk beneath the moonlight, elegant tatters with buttons, of plastic in colors shinned in the moonlight. The material dazzled under the moonlight, like no other.
The moon cast shadows on the tombs, making them come alive, like little monsters, alive in the moonlight.
The wind called his names out once, twice, he began to tremble again. The silk he took from the dead women's dress, was precious to him.
He would sew his doll's some clothes, from the dead women's dress, they would come alive tonight, under the moonlight. By Sammie Bagley
