Moss-covered tombstones, crumbling with age, being returned to the earth.
They do not leaveThey are not gone
They look upon us still
They walk among the valleys now
They stride upon the hill
Their smile is in the summer sky
Their grace is in the breeze
Their memories whisper in the grass
Their calm is in the trees
Poem: Anon
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank you so much for your kind words :)
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.