In my grave,

the chirp of grasshoppers will echo.
And breeze will slowly blow the
scattered grass;
growing haphazardly over my etched name,
to dance along an unheard tune
as the birds will sleep tight in their nests nearby,
and moonlight gently caress the cold
dark stone.
There would be peace;
so much peace,

In my grave.

- Nidhi