I passed by men mowing the churchyard grass.
When I came that way again
The men had passed, to go and mow
Some other grass perhaps.
I have walked the churchyard path
So oft , and passing by graves have coughed
Due to the hay.
One day the mower will pass,
And I will lie under the churchyard grass.
As will we all, Kevin.
I enjoyed your metaphore of the mowers.
Thank you, Vivienne. I’m pleased you enjoyed my poem.
Great! xx Michael
Thank you, Michael