Winter In The Cemetery Poem by Bryan Taplits

...Is a communal peaceful place-
A respite for the once young at heart-
The finish line in Life's race.
Brrr. It's chilly in winter-
With nightscapes that hug and are flanking,
(So you‘d think, at least, there'd be some clanking)
With the boarders so stiff-but no longer so swift-
Since now they are at closure-to both flirting and pranking.
Each lie in the dark, like sepulchured question marks,
Under the swirling blast of winter's doomed damp,
All of which is frigid and frosted and cold-
But at least:
They'll never be last in line; they'll always have enough time-
And, yes, they never will get even one day more old.