Graveyard Blues
Confetti scattered on the ground
Drifts against a recent mound
Next to which a grave is found.
A gaping grave, an open maw;
A gaping, waiting open maw,
Waiting like an open door.
Refrain : It’s really not what I would choose :
I’ve got the ghoulish graveyard blues.
A lonely hand marks out the hour
As the clock strikes in the tower.
A bunch of faded plastic flowers
Leans against a granite stone.
The wind through Scots pine starts to moan
O’er centuries of village bones.
Refrain
As Victorian elegies fade,
Memorials, sentimental made
Now linger sadly in the shade.
Tombstones crack, inscriptions fall
And distant loved ones fail to call;
Weeds spring up and grass is stall.
Refrain
A world of contrasts you’ll find here,
Though timeless, death, decay are near,
Finality may draw a tear
But sunshine sparkles through the trees
And Spring lambs gambol at their ease
And wild flowers buzz with bumble bees.
Refrain : But still I just can’t seem to lose
Those ever-present graveyard blues.
Copyright © Mike Jones | Year Posted 2014
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