I have fond memories
Of that place—
A graveyard
In a far-off land.
The wind
Would blow there
All the time,
Lightly touching
Upon the lives
That visit and don’t stay.
It seemed to call
To those long past,
Saying,
“Onward, meek souls.
Onward to rest.”
But telling the visitors
To sit awhile and
Enjoy the beauty of the
House—
The home of those
Who would never
Be able
To enjoy it.
—C.R.E.
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