Graveyards are a memory
For those who know of love.
And every tombstone in the yard,
Is a sign of giving up.
Every piece of grass that grows
Over a fresh dug grave
Is a sign of peace and serenity
For one who was so brave.
And all the flowers blooming in spring
And dying in late night fall
Are reminders of a soul at rest
Who gave their heart to all.
So why is it I turn away
As if it’s bad to see?
For this is where I long to lay,
Yet am too afraid to be.

9-25-1990 Tuesday
Written by Gail Brookshire
PS. I miss you! I love you! Still!!
PSS… God is my hero.
I am so thankful for God allowing me things to be so different now.