Not all the nights were moonlit bright
the darker ones fed upon our fright
buried in depth lay the lonely souls
bones still alive eyes burning coals.
Nights on which moon dimly shone
feebly glowed those marble stones
with names etched of young and old
songs lost forever stories never told.
We talked in whispers lest the dead awoke
soldiers' graveyard life snuffed in smoke
buried in uniform now one with the soil
past all glories win's reward loss's toil.
Night lengthened wind's moan arose
the watchman called it's time to close
the living must go awaits their home
tombstones part for the dead to roam.
I frequented a neighborhood cemetery along with a friend in the 70's when access was unrestricted. We used to stay till late evening when it was deserted. The cemetery had memorial tombstones of soldiers died in World War I. This is a recollection from that time.