The burial ground came out of the past.
A spinster a blacksmith and courtesan
all seemed downcast.
Time had stood still with their names
chiseled on stone.
Leaves of beautiful colors and tall
grass- all windblown.
It was lonely in this overgrown place.
A tavenier claimed those days were
at a slower pace.
Lets reaffirm what dreams were at their
disposal.
Like us all death came along and made
it's proposal.
We lose as mere mortals to this great
giant.
It doesn't matter how we fight or become
defiant.
Flamboyant or plain time plays it's game
on us.
So you see the subject is clear- nothing
more to discuss.

michele kostelnik

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/souls-of-old/