Opposite Shore Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak

Trees are waving, telling me good-bye.
Life is to begin once again on an opposite shore.
One without any parents this time.
A void - and emptiness - brought on by death.
Age weakens, grows old, can no longer hold any life - sits quietly as death's parade marches slowly by, awaiting people to fall in step through eternities last door.
Paradise can not yet be seen, but the fragrance of the cemetery's red roses blows keenly, sharply, in the air to all who enter this private little sphere.
Stones marking graves, giving very little mention of what anyone has done with or during their lives.
Just a few lines - a small picture - navy anchor - praying hands.
Death can tell us even less about ourselves as we rest eternally interred in graves and our souls fly on daintily to heaven.
But we never see - our past is forgotten, present is no more, the future cannot be seen beyond life's doors.
Wandering this earth until we die, everything we've learned then lies hidden six feet underground.