A place of tears for many.
When you become a resident,
It matters not if you are wealthy
Whether in gold, money or property.
A place of nostalgia for some.
memories of friends ugly and handsome
In tales, a place where spirits hover
Whose bodies death presided over.
A place, to many, that depicts rest,
but in it are many that failed life’s test.
A place rich in reserves of humus earth
with talents and gifts reserved in us for hearth
On this strange voyage we are built to embark upon.
Wonderful and beautiful gifts.
Along with unsung songs,
And businesses that never started.
All this lay in state in graveyards
And cannot be taken not like grapes in vineyards