I sat in the autumn park alone, <br />The orange leaves collected at my feet. <br />A child or two swung on the old swings. <br />Off in the distance, I saw a pink house <br />And thought of a skirt you used to wear. <br /> <br />Everything felt like something I couldn’t save, <br />Like an unpreventable suicide, <br />Like blessing the very spade <br />That would later shovel my grave.<br /><br />Uriah Hamilton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/shovel-my-grave/
