I saw your picture on a wall today I ran my fingers across your face Touched the hard cold granite Looked below and read the dates Brenda Paquet born in September In nineteen sixty three Left the world and her loved ones May two thousand and fourteen My mind was full of questions Why is life so unfair? How can I be looking at this gravesite? My sister can’t be buried here I do not cry I feel no sadness It’s like I’m not even here I feel guilty I’m not crying For my sister I hold so dear I roamed around the graveyard Reading dates on other plates Thinking of my own mortality And my final resting place We think about the living When deciding where we’ll lay Making it’s easier for them To come and look upon our graves A place to bring the flowers Somewhere to kneel and pray Where they come to tell us What’s happening day to day All the things you do each day That I can no longer do Keep me in that special place And ill share them all with you We are the dead we cannot speak We can’t tell you what to do Live your life, follow your dreams Live life for me and you The years go by so quickly They visit less and less Then they are there beside us They too have been laid to rest
Posted on: Fri, 18 Jul 2014 12:32:48 +0000
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