Poezja

DENNIS TAYLOR, 17 października 2016

R.I.P.

I sit alone among the dead
I listen diligently and bow my head
for this is the residence I will occupy someday
so I often visten for soon I'll stay

no minimum age , no gender here
I look around and its completely clear
so many persons we have known
with names engraved upon these stones

I wait I watch I speak to God
and I hope and pray he hears my words
so be not fooled by the silence here
they walk among us
there  everywhere
 
so as the gentle breeze cools the summer heat
on a bench of stone I rest my feet
a tear of joy clouds my eyes
for I'll be at peace the day I die