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Final Resting Place

By: Mistress of Word Play

Page 1, A visit to the cemetery can make you think some really odd things.....


The feel of green moss which grows.

beneath those leather covered toes.

The smell of peonies assaults the nose

here where a gentler breeze blows.

Spanish moss and the scent of mums

a sound of a fife and those drums.

Bodies reduced to ash and crumbs

eerie silence which your brain numbs.

Towering stone angels and rocks

occasionally a tomb of fancy blocks.

Those seraphim that time mocks

no need for food, shelter, or clocks.

The fence of stone or iron around

by these barriers the captives bound.

Nary a whisper or even one sound

life disintegrates beneath this ground.

Here where the endless teardrops trickle

are those taken by Death Angel’s sickle.

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