Meet me at the graveyard
where the vines grow wild
and trees cover the tombs.
Where we can take off our shoes
and step on grass so soft
yet so overgrown.
Where the spirits of those now resting
can enjoy our quiet company,
knowing they are not truly alone.

Meet me at the graveyard
where someday we will be sleeping
and sit with me on moss-covered benches.
Watch the sky with me
as it shifts slowly from day to night
and hear with me
as the cicadas start to play.
Smile with me as the world
takes on a new calm.

Meet me at the graveyard
where we will hold hands
and touch skin,
possibly for the last time.
Where our bones will grow frail
and become nothing but a memory
of what once was.
We can frolic through the flowers
and marvel at their dead-tired look together,
making comments on similarities
in how we feel.

Meet me at the graveyard,
down under the Earth.
Where the worms will whisper to us,
welcoming us to our new home.
We can lay in spaces next to each other
and reminisce on days once lived,
our ghosts longing for touch no longer felt.
The coffins will sigh
with the shifting of the ground
and the ravens will peck the eyes of those
who threaten to bother us.

Meet me at the graveyard
where our souls can finally rest,
woken only by guests
bidding us the best.
Where the trees will grant us shade
and the vines will sprout pretty flowers;
from you to I,
and from I to you.

Meet me at the graveyard
where our bodies will die,
but our love can live forever.