Pedestal

Thoughts flow like
vines grasping the
base of an abandoned
pedestal the ornateness
of which is covered
with only mossy lichens
on a bowl with contents
emptied and dust filled
no longer a bath for
tiny sparrows that have
taken flight their
chirping bird song now
a distant memory in
the wind that stirs the
breeze to send leaves
fluttering in the old
deserted graveyard
where long lost writers
have taken their repose