Night came in whispers then,
So softly to my ears.
As I lay in the dip 2 feet from your grave
And traced the markings of your years.

Only feet from the door that led to the house
Where people were caught in their hells
I stayed with you, and your cold grey face
And listened for the stories you'd tell.

Two souls, together forever captured
Chiseled words the remains of your days
Emma, the mother and most treasured wife
Of the husband, the gentle ... Jeremiah James.

For hours the grass, cut just that day
Would play across the cheeks of this child.
And tales of the most, romantical nature
Traipsed through my head all the while.

Dreams of your house, so tiny and quaint
Took me away from the pain of my own.
Five year old fingers danced through the dirt
And led my eyes to the second tombstone.

A baby, so small, "You left us too soon"
Both sides of the dash read the same.
And just underneath, these engraven words:
"We love you, our Darling, Eliza Jane"

With most careful hands three flowers I'd pick
To rest just above where you lay
I imagined you resting in Death's perfect sleep,
And days would pass by as I played.





*note: These tales are about the tombstones in the yard where I grew up. This first one is just the beginning (I know it seems an odd place to end).*