Cemetery Of My Youth
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Contest-Cemetery
Sponsor- Constance La France
Wooden crosses weeping their peeling paint
broken and fractured by time
Stood like remnants of carnage from a civil war
signposts of man's ugliness from within
Silent in death, guardians of their cause
left in the farthest corner of a small cemetery
that held no importance
even to the church that owned it
Who used goats to graze the wild grasses
It was profoundly sad
to the eyes of a young boy who looked and wondered
About this cemetery
of etched, buried marble and wooden crosses
that moved with the wind
Someone should have laid flowers
Perhaps it's age, the crumbling crosses
Maybe... no one was alive who cared for this sacred ground
Not even the church
Copyright © Frederic Parker | Year Posted 2025
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