Walking among the stones, roaming, lost in my own head,
My mind coming to rest, pondering, accompanied by the dead.
Finding calm in the cold stones, inscribed, with the names of those set free,
But while I walked on the chilled dirt, a wisp, a smoke of some sort met me.
I’m too old for ghost stories, skeletons, and spooks of the like,
And I wasn’t prone to, looking, nor expecting any such a fright.
But the smoke formed a woman, gaunt, and sobbing at her mound,
And feeling as if I was looking into a mirror, staring, rooted and spellbound.
“Oh please do not become me”, pleading, came from the beaten shade,
Fear gripped me when she turned, a resemblance, I saw myself in her fade.
“Please be alright my young self, please, be careful where you go,
Lest you end up forgotten, alone, somewhere you don’t know”.
And with that verse she approached me, floating, arms aloft,
And I resisted initially but stood still, allured, and her sudden grip felt soft.
With a breeze of cold coming between my arms, lofting, through my clothes,
And I stood alone in the cemetery, on chilled dirt, wondering what she knows
- Mother in a Graveyard by C.D. Valera
