Beneath the Vines
As the sun sets beneath a lonely hill,
and shadows begin to lengthen and fall.
Twixt headstones laid for centuries will,
with carved names ‘n date, tell of stories all.
Some tell of families laid side by side
as tall statues stand proudly over them.
Others, only flat stones, as if to hide,
peeking out from the vines, a hidden gem.
And some with no slab to mark their place,
too poor to be given a name or a date,
as if never part of the human race.
Did they have a child, or even a mate?
Would a stone have kept them in our minds?
There’re so many stories beneath the vines.
10/03/16
For the Overgrown with Vines contest
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