Author Hazel Hall After the song, there comes an hour When Silence has its way with you. It lays you out and puts a flower In either hand; it lights a few Gaudy candles at foot and head, Then weeps, and you are very dead. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments