The Old Churchyard
A Poem by:
Copyright shall at all times remain vested in the Author. No part of the work shall be used, reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the Author's express written consent.
Down a winding country lane
Where hedge rows line the way,
The crumbling headstones nestle close
To the old church above the bay.
There, in the quiet solitude,
The old oaks bend in pain,
Driven by the wind that gusts,
Bringing salty bursts of rain.
An old man kneels to place a rose
On a tomb that's a crumbling mound.
His lined face reveals the loss,
As his tears fall to the ground.
Then, as he kneels there grieving,
His pain clear for all to see,
Soft words drift with the wind:
"Why couldn't you wait for me"!
Copyright © 2001 K. Kianush, Art Arena