by AnnaB

Created on: February 08, 2011

Stand still beside my grave, read my stone.

Listen to the words written, words to be on loan.

Stillness creeps in.

How soon do the leaves fall from the trees, perhaps, you’ll this race win.

Formatting words together, we so often forget

Forget, that it is our deeds more than words that will forever be remembered will these we regret?

Stand still look at the stones; feel the wind as it begins to blow.

Watch the dust as it is lifted clearing the paths of those you used to know.

Smell the flower petals, as softly their fragrance lingers, as the petals, fade and wither away.

Turn away my friend; for the wind has begun to blow, perhaps the dust is blown away, for you today?

My friend, remember me, remember me but never forget, I as you am but dust.

Today, you linger over my grave, but tomorrow, the wind will blow, clearing a path for you to walk showing on whom you did trust.

Listen my dear, listen carefully, for every stone has a tale to tell.

My friend don’t cry, do not weep, for it is well with my soul, it is well…

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