I stood by the cold graveside

I stood by the cold graveside

I stood by the cold graveside
A misty afternoon at end of year.
Life and death were hardly separated
A thin film was all that lay between
The living and the dead.

Birds sang, inviting Spring,
The hearses now made way
For quiet visits and silent grieving
That lasted down the decades
With flowers and memories afresh

The tidy graves beside forgotten ones
Some neatly kept with flowers new
Gravel raked and marble polished
A silent rebuke to abandoned graves
By those who came but once , never more returning.

The balance sheet of life exposed
Of those who loved and love grown cold
The granite tells the story of a life
In three short lines, no more.

Who will come and visit by your grave
When the world has long forgotten you
Who will bring flowers for your tenth
And fortieth anniversaries?

Lying two feet apart the great and humble
Two feet apart the poor and wealthy
The doting father, the grieving wife
The tiny toddler, all left this life.