By an unwept grave
Leaves scatter to the ground
A bell sounds three times
The wind sways the branches
Shriveled roses lie on a nearby stone
Birds are silent in the grey afternoon
I walk in the quiet
Between the remembered and not
Not searching but gazing
At names and dates
On chiseled granite and eroding marble
Through land set aside for the past
Broken columns
Cherub faces on flaking slate
Biblical names unused in this day
Words carved of heaven's reward
Dates marking too short lives
Relations noted
Dry grass crunches under foot
My shoes scuff the dirt
As I walk to the wrought iron gates
I know/knew none in this place
No tears left by me
Ron Eklof © 2009
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