Graveyards Are Beautiful In The Spring

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745 / 1934

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Patti Masterman

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745 / 1934

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The graveyards are beautiful
In spring. Willows weep
At the edge of the glade
Everything crumbling
Is remade; the leaves
Of yesterday are gone
And sun comes out to play
His song.

Even death has a breath
Of spring. New growth
Riots with bird on the wing
Wildflowers flourish
Beside the stones
Old lovers return
But stand alone.

Patti Masterman

Thursday, March 27, 2014

Topic(s) of this poem: time

poem poems spring yesterday

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Hans Vr 29 March 2014

Long time, I did not visit your page, Patti. Happy to see you keep writing very interesting poems. This one is a shining example. Thought provoking. Makes one think about the mystical harmony between death and life. In whatever shape, we are still part of this wonderful world.

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Smoky Hoss 27 March 2014

Wow; that last line is awesome! Amazing.

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