It is the most peaceful sort of place.
The grass rolls like a carpet,
gentle hills rising and falling;
an emerald sea.
Lovely, towering trees surrounding,
silent watchers, eternaling guarding.
A beautiful place, with flowers all around.
Almost always surrounded in silence.
Yet there are days, or nights, when meetings
take place.
People of all ages and races meet.
A wonderful party, a meeting of minds.
Their chairs are cold, grey stones,
Stones of all shapes and sizes.
A lovely place, a
Cemetary.
No comments:
Post a Comment