The Kirk Yard

This day is as peaceful to me, as the day has, been so long As I listen to the birds singing just for me in their last song Gone the summer’s greens, autumn’s leaves they descend Critter’s out gathering their winter food, on it they depend It is only times like this, to which I am at my most content Memories which I hold within this Kirk yard only to me lent So within the Kirk yard I get to see death’s glory at its best As I read all the gravestone epitaphs, of those now, at rest I can hear all the idle chatter; of those so unearthly ghosts Saying to me you are welcome, as today we are your hosts Peacefulness prevails here as only a kirk yard can ever give As I enter another time frame, and to how folks used to live Passed before my eyes, images of long ago to me displayed That then disappear into the walls of the Kirk yard in a haze Ghostly figures; stop to stare at me, in their own eerily way Watching me, as I am dressed in clothes of the modern day Silence, not one word spoken, fear this moment shall break With every image captured within my own mind I doth take A sun sets with a sad loneliness, laden under its own weight With each gravestone whispering until I reach the iron gates This kirk yard is now dampened with the coming of the night Only it to flourish once more come tomorrow’s early sunlight I, a soul so tired, and weary, as seen etched across my face Passing beneath the gate lamp, it showers me with its grace Won’t be long, before they as carry me through these gates Where, I become a part of its wealth that just for me awaits Indiana Shaw . . . -_-