Quiet sentinels, speckled with moss since the century’s turn.
Standing cold, strong, and silent.
Carved with care. Everlasting tributes of remembrance, and of love
Here stand tellers of wonderful tales.
Revealing in careful script, stories of times gone by.
At any hour, even in the dead of night.
Beautiful, intricate works of art.
Great angels of sorrow. Feathers of stone.
Wings, like hearts, broken and cracked.
Vines of fine marble climbing eternally to the heavens.
Roses of pink granite, ever in bloom.
Never to wilt, even under the sun’s hottest kiss.
On each a clearing, upon where a story is told.
Of names, of dates, of those who once lived. Speaking silently about the past, throughout eternity
c 2004~ wendy
