Walking the Cemetery
I left you there, not alone,
with the lamb above your head.
too early were you taken from me
to lay in your new bed.
Next too the man with the long name,
his marker only half done,
a giant heart in the middle,
waiting for his beloved one.
The rooster looks across the circle
his stance profoundly brave with rage
honoring the fireman’s family
and how they fought with courage.
Down I walk, toward the drive
a lily catches my eye,
in a vase and engraved on stone
for one too pure to die.
A mausoleum with giant crown
blocks my view to the West
a glorious man, with glorious plans
he believed in life after death.
Columns once tall and proud
now lie in shameful piles
draped with concrete cloth
death too soon after a noble life.
The last stone near the driveway
is a giant anchor carved
with names of captains and sailors
who never came back from afar.
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