There sits, tucked away in Salzburg
A secret sight-- a cemetery
Where fog hangs thick
Over headstones high
Standing for those ****** to lie
For all eternity set in bone

In the stone faces stare
With the blank and vapid glare
Of dead men who tell no tales
Just because they forgot them
But most travelers don’t see them there
Because they’re captured
By the enrapturing eyes
Of the Second Nature.

The rise of the vines a tide
Of blossoms opened wide
A violent violet cavernous wild,
A bleeding blush tinged red demure,
And fire
Those three colors enveloping grey
In thousands of blooms
Awakened, pure, alive today
Peering through the fog
Feasting off the remnants of
Those who’re locked in
All the forgotten

As the flowers barely, rarely blink.