The weather doesn't
Play favourites to
The gravestones I
Think to myself
As each epitaph
Stands graceless
And brooding in the
Cool spring air
As if each were
Showing discontent
With its lot in life,
Standing there cold
As ice knowing they
Must persist or else.
Myself I think life
Is good and should be
Treasured by all but
I can't help think the
Gravestones if they
Could talk would
Beg to differ.
Anyway I idly
Conclude as I pass
That the stones don't
Reflect many of the
Lives that now lay
Beneath them as they
Stand there enduring
The weather refusing
To offer anything to the
Beautiful evening.   Submitted By: NULL