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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Death · #2193739
A poem of death and sadness

I enter gates rusty and old- worn with age,
this eternal resting place fills my soul with sadness;
the time of year does not help- barren trees hang low,
dried up flowers lay forlorn and withered on graves.

I follow a path that takes me deep into a maze of,
many stones are difficult to read- time decayed;
some are simple crosses and others granite markers,
I cross a bridge over a rippling creek in the silence.

Dark valleys lay before me and toppled statues rest,
this scene of sadness holds a place in my soul ever;
for in this cemetery lays a beloved childhood memory,
of my Christmas white cat, Snowball- and still I weep.

March 21, 2014

Poetry/Verse/The Cemetery
Copyright Protected, ID 14-2193-739-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.

© Copyright 2019 Wiishkobi Ode (wiishkobiode at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2193739