The Whispering

I came across an old cemetery today while exploring, full of broken, toppled headstones and tangled weeds; there was a deep hush, a whisper and a sigh, I felt tears, my tears were falling for long dead souls forgotten. a tree's roots are entwined around an old, tilted stone, in loving memory of my husband George, born Feb, 1882; oh, George you were loved very much once upon a time, and will not be forgotten for his name is engraved. I am of the age of Aquarius too, just like you George, I love violets and everything purple, and I am so mellow; oh, George were you a deep thinker, sensitive, creative, I get hurt easily and I always want to help people. Be at peace George in your decay and ravaged grave, listen to the twittering of birds this bright sunny day; promise, promise, I will be back to lay some purple violets, forever now, dear soul, you will dwell in my heart. Now, be still George, I heard your whisper . . . ____________________________ April 28, 2016 (Edit) Poetry/Verse/The Whispering Copyright Protected, ID 16-1078-613-0 All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym. Submitted into Contest No 510, Standard sponsor, Brian Strand First Place