Rows and rows of tombstones lie strewn with flowers
Laid down by the overnight gusty showers
In a little large secluded graveyard
To find one such next to the din is indeed hard!
The old and mighty trees form a canopy of green
To keep the resting souls under, calm and serene.
The cuckoos are joyfully singing their numbers
Inviting to their company other members.
The squirrels are hunting for their treasure
Jumping from one branch to another enjoying their leisure.
I presume the souls underground are a lot pleased
To witness the life above while theirs is ceased
Unusual, but some little kids play their game
Between the rows of stones that look the same.
Perhaps, this once remote piece of land looked ideal
For those who wanted to lie down in peace real!
This often deserted ground suddenly comes alive
With mortals who come on a thanksgiving drive.
They shower rose petals on these stones and say prayers
The yard looks replete with flower layers.
I reckon those who are sleeping peacefully beneath
Reminisce their past and whisper under their teeth
Words that conjure up the glories of their heyday
That sweeten their souls day after day all the way!
Wordsmith
2 April 25
