Graveyard Poem
Mossy tombstones neatly cracked,
quiet dull and grey.
Old trees grow breaking up,
Amidst this sacred lay.
Leaves old and wrinkled walking,
tumbleweed across my path.
Yellow grass green wild onion,
push up crowded from the past.
Bobbing up from where I look,
chiseled from memory to epitaphs.
Testify the aged ivory markings,
lining a horse carts path.
Sudden warmth exposing shadows,
clouded sunshine stops the day.
Once cold finger trace it's line,
fall to the ground that yellow ray.
This my favorite spot these days,
see those buried years I've yet to pay.
Yet walking hopeful back and forth gaze,
surrounds me comfort from those who got away!
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