In Cemetery Gardens
In cemetery gardens, hung with mists and wandring ghosts,
I read the words of wisdom etched on stony gravestone posts.
I read the emblems, in decay, in moss and lichen dressed,
The parting words and prayers of hope on stone and slate impressed.
We loved her true; she will be missed; he was a stalwart man,
We prized this couple, bright as gold, within our family clan.
I see the central tree that stands, a guardian so brave,
A sturdy interlocutor for men set in the grave.
The flower gardens, perfect fair, in tapestries so bright,
The lillies, white as ivory, with daisies that delight.
The roses strung, espalliered, a ruby necklace draped,
Peonies, pink, in lipstick tone, and tombs in ivy caped.
The red carnations, bunched and brave, like mourners for the dead,
Picturesque chrysanthemum in loving gesture spread.
Purple iris too, I see, that bloom so long, in joy,
Pansies, tulips, orchids too the gardeners employ.
I meditate on lifetimes spent — just birds that used earth’s nest,
Now entombed in dirt, for good, and by the rain caressed.
I fathom all the earnest prayers, arousing a response—
It’s love that would unite us best and bring a renaissance.
A loving spirit, bravely spent, and honoured to the end,
That is the answer, I declare — the message I would send…
AD Lovkis, 14/08/25
adamdaniel 