My first poem, thought of after visiting a cemetery in December. Full descrip. in profile |
Walk across the gravel To a place less traveled, That’s where you’ll find me Where not many like to be. Through the freshly fallen snow The sun’s reflection makes your eyes aglow, Among the tall frozen stones With flowers left by those who atone. The past is never far behind One day you’ll be in that line, For eternity you’ll wait For someone familiar to pass through that gate. To prove you are not forgotten In a place comfort is sought-in. Frozen tears come to the eyes Of those before them as they lie, Unable to finish what they started In the world they have since departed. It is up to those who visit them To make them smile once again, Before they are joined in their grave By both the coward and the brave. The past is never far behind One day you’ll be in that line, For eternity you’ll wait For someone familiar to pass through that gate. To prove you’re not forgotten In a place comfort is sought-in. Don’t think of me as sad Lying here in my wooden pad, One day you’ll be here Departed from all your worldly fears. So go back through that gate We wouldn’t want you to be late, To spend the time that you’ve got left Before you take that one. . . last. . . breath. . . |