THE KIRK YARD
This day was as peaceful as to me the
day had been so long
As I listen to the birds chirping just
to me - their last song
As Autumn descends upon us but all the
land is still green
As warm showers gave the birds - their
last chance to preen
It is only times like this to which I am
at my most content
Memories I hold within the Kirkyard -
are to me only lent
As within the Kirkyard - I get to see
deaths glory at its best
As I read all the gravestone epitaphs of
all those now at rest
I can hear all the idling chatter of those
so unearthly ghosts
Saying to me - you are welcome - today
we are your hosts
A peacefulness prevails here - as only a
Kirkyard could give
As I enter another time frame and to how
folk used to live
Pass before my eyes - images of long ago
for me displayed
That then disappears into the walls of
the Kirkyard in a haze
Ghostly figures even stop to stare at me
- in their eerie way
What do they think of me as I am dress
for the modern day
Silence descends - no words in fear
these images would break
Every image captured like pictures into
my mind - I do take
The sun sets with sad loneliness laden
underneath its weight
Every gravestone whispering to me till I
reach the iron gates
The Kirkyard is now dampen - with the coming
of the night
It will flourish once more - come
tomorrows morning light
I, a soul tired and so weary - as seen
as etched across my face
As I pass beneath the gate lamp - it
showers me with its grace
For myself fearing how much fear - that
I have in death itself
But . . .
On my death I’ll enter this Kirkyard -
and only feel its wealth
Indiana Shaw . . . (*-*)
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