Smith ... Lee ... Reed ... Weber ...

I wander past the graves

A solitary mourner in a private dirge

With eyes as silent as sadness



Jackson ... William ... James ... Henney ...

The names familiar but the men unknown

I stand all alone, head bowed in the crisp evening air,

But sense Their presence, Their hopes, Their memories



Biddin ... Clay ... Lennox ... Lord ...

So many memories

So many names

So many deaths



Kennedy ...

Yet I hear the birds, I see the majestic trees,

I feel the grass beneath me and smell the flowers,

And now realize that They are truly alive.