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Cemetery

The orbs and tablets, crosses, monoliths,
some in place one hundred years or more!.
Most rendered unintelligible by
a hundred years of wind and rain!. Before
you pass just stop and look!. Consider them;
some were, by their pure grandeur, very rich:
sea captains, merchants or judges perhaps!. And some
were poor by their plain stones!. They filled a niche
in their community!. Look at them now,
the wealthy and down-trodden - no difference!.
They rot in that small churchyard, surrounded by
that creaky, black and rusted wrought iron fence!.

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