Image by Bill EmoryThe cemetery gates stand open,
Broken tombstones line the paths,
Forlorn reminders of the lives of those
Whose dreams of love have turned to dust.
Here the living feel a shiver of foreboding,
Withered wreaths lie silent underfoot,
We turn away, our dreams of love held close.
We know, as stone does crumble, the living also must.
Friko
Posted over on her site Friko's Musings
Listed as #11 over on Magpie Tales 38
No comments:
Post a Comment