I came here in Spring,
Green, wet, haunting.
I came here in Summer,
Grim, wet, haunting.
I came here in August,
Green, sunny, but haunting.
I came here in Autumn,
Bleak, Gothic, eerie.

It's like a walk through history
from the 1860's - yes -
Orphans that are now dead,
Just like my childhood.
I will come here in winter,
bleaker, wetter, haunting.
You go through a tunnel of tombstones,
old tombstones decorating the tunnel's walls.
You walk through and then you see the light,
you leave the graveyard behind you.
I will be here again.
It will be green, maybe grim,
but always haunting.