They fill this place with stones and sculptures honoring the dead
Who lie in boxes underground, forever out of sight
I wish that they would plant another tree for me, instead
They fill this place with stones and sculptures honoring the dead
Whom they so carefully preserve, then dump into the ground
I wish that they would plant another tree for me, instead
They waste their time on those oblivious to sight and sound
Whom they so carefully preserve, then dump into the ground
The mourners come with rosy wreaths to offer the deceased
They waste their time on those oblivious to sight and sound
I watch this graveyard grow and grow, the numbers have increased
The mourners come with rosy wreaths to offer the deceased
Who lie in boxes underground, forever gone from sight
I watch this graveyard grow and grow, the numbers have increased
This strange, sepulchral spectacle to me does not seem right.
© November 1, 2004 by Allan M. Heller
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