Visiting The
Cemetery
_________
The cemetery was where the ducks were fed,
Where us friends feasted on wine, verse, and bread
Amidst the flowered trees and quiet streams—
The home for both the living AND the dead.
We lived at once, aware that life was dear,
Oft smiling at Heaven and Hell without fear;
Yes, we had some laughs, gave true love, and made
Life better—for it was now and we were here.
From Heaven’s stars came our dust eterne;
Time’s seas nurtured thee and thine in turn.
From time, death, and dust we thus became,
And by this, thus, and that we must return.
All the world’s wealth can’t extend the power
That drains the cup and withers the flower.
What would be the price of a moment’s breath
Purchased from Death’s hand at the final hour?
Oh, no, reader—of course I’m not yet dead,
As though it may appear that you’ve just read;
No, I’m living, oh, I’m living a poem
I’m living all the words that I’ve just said.
Now my cup was nearly empty and done;
There was left but one last drop for the sun
To drink, or with which to make rivers run:
Its flavor burst in joy—my life was won!
Refreshed, I wandered among the tombstones,
Under which rested little more than bones,
Where from the life had fled when dreams were dead,
Which under me became life’s stepping stones.