In memory of Gregory Black

One day I was walking
and looked down at the ground
There sat a marked rock
not making a sound

It lay next to a tree
by a school parking lot
So I sat and I read
and I had a long thought

Gregory Black
In memory of
Who was this Greg
remembered thereof?

What was he like?
What games did he play?
What were his views
on life and decay?

Did he learn anything
he needed to share?
Was he ever in love?
About what did he care?

Did he climb mountains?
Or rarely leave bed?
What kinds of worlds
were trapped in his head?

Who was this man
remembered in stone?
Did he enjoy life?
Did he die alone?

All I know is his name
was Gregory Black
I know that he's gone
and he'll never come back

If I get my own rock
someday after I fall
I'd rather a memory
and no name at all

An idea crossed my mind
as I stood from the ground
So I went off to do
something worth writing down.

My Tulpa

Sleep paralysis in a haunted house <-- Solid spooky story

Saturday <-- I didn't critique this one, I just really like it.