Sitting in a Cemetery


Moss creeps up identical gravestones

as armies once conquered lands;

water droplets cover grass

like tears rest on eyelashes;

bitter cold air whips past creaking trees,

spurred on by unending regrets;

ancient trees covered in scars and wrinkles

betray the misery accompanying life;

ivy clings on a tree’s trunk

as desperate as a lover’s final embrace;

shadows of bare gnarled branches

paint the ground in abstract art;

a sea of fragile daisies

formed by long-forgotten smiles;

the dynamic rush of a stream

fills the air with a symphony of echoed laughter;

a gentle breeze envelopes the forget-me-nots

like a mother’s comforting caress;

tentatively, a delicate carnation blooms

in the colour of rosy cheeks;

freshly mown grass

creates a perfume of forgotten pasts and new beginnings;

dead leaves etched with veins

let their lifeblood seep into the ground.

 

[Kirsty Campbell]

Image courtesy of Aike Jansen

 

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