Tombstones

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