Written During the Teen Years --- Poetry

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Graveyard Stroll

A rickety gate on an unsturdy wall,
I enter the house of deceased.
Remembering all the good times we had,
I enter to capture my peace.

It's dull yet distinct, his old rain-beaten mound.
My father lies here quite asleep.
Although I was young when his slumber began,
My affection is forever deep.

Always at night when I visit the tomb,
I've entered just once during day.
I prove my delight to walk in without fear,
'Cause I know he would want it that way.

The day he arrived here, the sun shone down bright,
Too pleasant for such an event.
So now I will enter here only at night,
And relive all the good times we spent.

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The nearer the soul is to GOD, the less its perturbations; as the point nearest the center of a circle is subject to the least motion.