CEMETERY

An eye for an eye

Teeth for teeth

Past the gates

Home for the dead

Bodies lay beneath

Headstones, flowers and written names

Never forgotten in mind

Young ones, old ones

The grace of the good

The mystery of the not so kind

Black is the colour

Clear are the tears

Peaceful not a sound

Except for the whistling birds in the sky

That fly around the town

Long black cars drive in with the boxes

Some ready to burn

Bodies lowered to be buried

The living waiting for their turn

Justin Ashford