#234 A Better View Poem by Jimmie Arrington

Through a maze of graves I make my way,
On a cold and dreary winter’s day,
Suppressed with clouds of black and gray.
And I am all alone.
I see names and dates as I pass by
With notes bidding a final goodbye,
When one fresh grave captivates my eye.
I must read that stone.

Below the stone is a mound of dirt
And I step with eyes I can’t divert.
Why does this grave trigger such alert?
Why am I so enthralled?
Slowly I creep close enough to see
A few short lines of poetry,
Imprinted extremely clumsily.
Why so poorly scrawled?

“Here lies one who’ll be missed by few,
Who you’ll never know and you never knew,
Whose spirit fled for a better view”,
I read repeatedly.
My eyes grow wide and burn with fear
When I recognize the name etched here,
And the dates make all my queries clear:
Here lies no one, here lies me.