Among the scattered granite
Kneels a concrete angel
Watching over the stillness
Of the sacred place.
Crows gather and I
Undisturbed sit
Under an overcast sky
A slight chill will every wind
So fitting and so welcome
Leaves spurting their way along the asphalt
Moss -laden oaks standing in reverance of the dead at rest
And yet there is much life
Bees in the low cut grass
Moving about the daisies
Crows playing games in the clouds
Blades of grass tremoring with the breeze
The ground appears to tremble
But it would never dare
Not here.
Not here where alone feels nothing like loneliness
Where innonence has endured
In the only place where tears can fall without scrutiny
Peace takes precedence here
Where the dead listen
As God speaks