Graveyard Stroll

A stretch of land, where bodies rest A gentleman pays his respects With a heavy heart and much to confess A golden pin upon his breast The wicked winter is fading, fast The blanket of snow, now a sheet of slush He loses his breath from a chill of the past A thick and heavy hush He cups his hands atop his mouth Thawing them with his breath He hears desperate cries out loud But surrounds him, is only death He has so many stories to tell And knows more than he should But until he joins them all, in Hell He'll speak of only good