Graveyards

No one runs in a graveyard.
No one shouts.
It is peaceful,
Calming,
Walking amongst those who came before.

Tip toe and listen to the silence,
Whisper the names of those you meet.
For most of those you chance upon,
You are their only visitor,
Save the daily procession of  new arrivals.

Who were all these people?
What lives did they live,
The same as I do now?
Did we share the same fears?
And joys?
And hopes?
And dreams?

Did they live lives fulfilled
Or take regret with them?
If given one more day to live,
What is it do you suppose they would do?
Where would they visit?
Who would they see?
What words of advice would they speak?
I can only imagine it would be magnificent,
Throwing off all the veils of a superficial life,
And living for one more day,
A lesson learned only in death.

© 2009, Tim (P) Prendeville