rings from beyond
the cemetery gates
as I pass by
in wonder of lives and loves lost, always
too soon, no matter the age. Weeping
willows, winding streams, rolling
hills, and monuments etched from stone stand sentinel
beyond the cemetery gates where the specter
of grief walks the rows
alone, in the dark, while memories and longing
are ghosts among the living.
us, because they are the true echo of loss, not
beyond the cemetery gates, but in our homes, our hearts
where monuments are erected from our grief and tears.
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