wisdom in tombstones
The cemetery stood on an abandon old church yard,
Buildings a shell of ruins and charred
Rain fell with a misty black veil,
A moon hung low waxen and pale.
The glow so bright I could see,
Every tombstone and whose they'd be.
Moss covered some names it was hard sometimes,
To make out the etched out granite lines.
A bouquet of black roses her favorite flowers,
when she lived she'd smell them for hours.
I read the words so lovingly engraved,
I mourned from a soul she'd saved.
The words said " Even the sky runs out of rain,
Till only death will remain."
Bitterness filled my sad lonely heart,
she was my strongest part.
The bottle now my best friend,
To try and forget how it come to an end.
Weeds overtook her lovely grass bed,
choking out the beauty instead.
My hands so cold, I began to clear,
pulling with all my pent up fear.
She in life never asked too much,
she only asked for my gentle touch.
I ripped and tore till my hands bled,
wiping moss from her precious words said.
I never understood till that day,
what the words were meant to say.
Till the rain stopped and all was serene,
I finally understood what it was to mean.
Life isn't about the pain and sorrow,
it's about living another day tomorrow.
Life so short there's no point to harbor pain,
so even the sky runs out of rain.