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Poem

Walking over stones that lay for years,
The final resting place for those beneath,
Headstones telling you who lies below them,
For some the place that ancestors bequeath.
For some the stones can’t be read any longer,
For some fresh flowers placed there just today,
For some a meeting place as young teenagers,
Until officials moved them on their way.
For some the strangest place to do their courting,
For others to go racing on their bikes,
For those who love the history of locals,
A place an ancestry explorer likes.
For those who pass away it’s their new home now,
They gather round to say their last goodbye,
And as the mourners leave to mourn their passing,
They’re left there now to look up to the sky.
It sometimes forms a horror film’s dark background,
It’s often shown at night in pouring rain,
The scene may shift to other situations,
But later on they’ll go back there again.
They said that it’s where Dickens was inspired,
And where he gained his characters their names,
It sometimes is a place to say some prayers,
Quite often where folk’s memories remain.
Going there can sometimes be cathartic,
While other times it can be really hard,
It can be sad or lonely or a comfort,
When visiting a peaceful calm graveyard.

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