How many generations can I possibly trace So quiet and calm serene and asleep As above you I try to quietly creep I don't wish to disturb you but I'd like to see Reminders of people that interest me As I slip back in time to days that are gone Picturing people who long ago shone When death came so easy and took you away Never to see another new day Then laid to rest in this hallowed ground Where nothing above makes no move or no sound Except may be for me as I carefully tread This garden wherein sleeps the souls of the dead.
© Catherine Turner-Joll
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