The Kirkyard

THE KIRKYARD This day is as peaceful to me, as the day has, been so long As I listen to the birds singing just for me in their last song As autumn descends upon us, but; all the land is still green Its warm showers, give the birds their last chance to preen It is only times like this, to which I am, at my most content Memories which I hold within this Kirkyard only to me lent As within the Kirkyard, I get to see deaths glory, at its best So I read all the gravestone epitaphs, of those now, at rest I can hear all the idle chatter; of those, so unearthly ghosts Saying to me you are welcome as today, we are your hosts Peacefulness prevails here, as only a Kirkyard can ever give As I enter another time frame, and to how folks used to live Passed before my eyes images of long ago, to me displayed That, then disappear into the walls of the Kirkyard in a haze Ghostly figures, even stop to stare at me, in their eerie way Watching me; as I am dressed in clothes of the modern day Silence, not one word spoken in fear this moment so breaks As every image captured within my mind, that in does takes A sun sets with a sad loneliness, laden under its own weight With each gravestone whispering until I reach the iron gates This Kirkyard is now dampened with the coming of the night Only to flourish, once more come tomorrow’s, early sunlight I, a soul so tired and so weary as seen etched across my face As I pass beneath the gate lamp it showers me with its grace It won’t be long before they as carry me through these gates Where I'll become a part of its wealth that just for me awaits Indiana Shaw . . . -_-