Walking through the graveyard in the pouring rain
I do not feel alone
Nor do I regret the wet
For I can feel the heavy rain
While those who sleep beneath the gravestones
Are company for me.
And these old churchyard trees
Thrive in the rain.
The Path to Eternity
The churchyard floodlight
Momentarily brightens the night.
But the graves stand out white
Both day and night.
The graveyard is opposite my home.
It’s old stones
Have seen my shadow pass
Along that path
Were the moral and immoral
Cease their quarrel
In eternal dust.
I have passed tombs
In the sunshine
And in the gloom
Pondering on rhyme
And my fleeting time.
Scented with perfume
She passed the dead
Who lay entombed
In their unenvied bed
And the dead slept on
When she was gone.
We find brevity in lust
And permanence in dust.
I heard no birds
In the winter churchyard.
It was just
The cold sky
The tombs
And I
On a darkening afternoon.
The wet churchyard earth
Speaks of nature’s rebirth.
The graveyard grass smells fresh.
I see life and death.
The tombstones stand out white
In the sun’s light.
I wonder, as I go
Whether those now below
Lived their days in light?
And, when I go
Will those who pass
Along this path
Pause, and sigh,
And think as I?
More often than not
I stop
By the graveyard plot
Where a soft breeze
Rustles trees.
Yet, outside this spot
I hear it not.
Shall I intrude
Into their quietude?
The wind sings
As I,
Alone
Pass by
Gravestone.
Time has stopped,
For those below.
I have the clock
And somewhere to go.
But the wind sings
Softly to me
In the churchyard tree.
Why do I rush to pass
Those who walk the churchyard path?
I reach my home
And leave behind the path
Along which all must pass,
To a place where bones
Find their final home,
Under a cold stone.
“He liked to rhyme
And was fond
Of women
And wine,
And sinning.
Now he has gone beyond
Women,
And wine,
And sinning.
And he is out of time
For rhyme”.
K Morris - Poet 