I guess it sounds a little strange
That graveyards are important to me
But traveling across the country
They are so fascinating to see
In old towns out in the west
I’ve walked between the stones
With names barely visible
Standing guard over ancient bones
To me they should be cherished
For they are part of history
And someday my name too will be
Amongst tall ancient trees!
In the South were I was born, it was a Sunday afternoon tradition to go for a drive and stop at passing cemetaries to read the gravestones and smell the gardenias. As a little boy, I found it boring, but now I can see the charm in it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Reading really old gravestones can be an interesting thing, everyone has done it at one time or another! Great read Marilyn! *10*! Friend Thad