A Waterford Pennsylvania Field of Stone

A field of stones Hidden in an ancient wood Stones white and shiny Bleached by decades of history Names long ago forgotten Carved by a man in a dark shop Each letter lovingly engraved by hand The names are now barely readable Eyes have to strain to see each letter They were worn down by unending winds Plastic crosses mark some of the graves Where stones were placed at one time Now long missing or destroyed No names to mark their passing Who were these people? Did they die in the heat of battle? Or did nature take their lives with a fatal disease Were they mothers, fathers, sisters or brothers? The grass was neatly mown at one time Flowers planted years ago still bloom Trees shade the graves from the heat of the sun They show that someone once cared Now they are ignored…forgotten Except by a few who wander by Yet, they don’t stop They stop and look at the stones They don’t know the names So the deceased are left there With just the weeds and the animals They only ones to remember them