When I take the short walk
Through the churchyard, my thought
Often turns
To lessons not learned
And chances spurned.
And then I turn
To my so ordinary day
And say,
“I will learn!”
Yet still my way
Remains the same
Treadmill of pleasure and pain.
But my demons will stop
When the devil knocks
The wet churchyard earth
Speaks of nature’s rebirth.
The graveyard grass smells fresh.
I see life and death.
Walking through the churchyard, I saw a shape.
There can be no escape
From the tomb.
The gloom
Is there
For those who care
To look beyond a sunny day.
continuing on my way
I passed that tree,
That did loom
Over tomb
And me.
K Morris - Poet 