in the graveyard,
perfect place for a writers touch,
calm, with the harmony of souls
playing so elegantly in to the
way the wind shifts and clatters
with each echoing sound.
place where flowers bloom
the fields of darkness and death,
the trees weep and cry humming
similar tune.with the wind blowing
dupree from the earth,
the elements across the landscape.
animals seem to flack to the dead
honest place to bed there head,
with out the annoyance of humans in
evilness is beneath the soil.
place in the graveyard
that shall not be tainted by the
like the rest of the world!
seem to admire the irony,
how things can blossom in
and bloom in darkness,
and the sun still rises and falls
the same way,
no changes in good or
alive or dead,well or in
i know people complain of
begging for affection or
but stop and listen to the souls
in the wind
playing in the night with harmony
in there lost innocence,
maybe they envy the living.try to
a lesson from the dead, life is
love your self and admire the
we all will have a plot in the
that's are only common ground
that we share!