Courtesy of Wendy Spain
The sun sets,
on this hallowed little hill,
people come and visit,
again, and again till.
They stop and remember,
recall the days from the past,
wish life was more forgiving,
from the first day to the last.
They take the time to reflect,
some, they do pray,
talk to those departed,
wish they were not away.
They smile as they recall,
planting a flower while on a knee,
only remember the best moments,
old thoughts of what might be.
They gather and reminisce,
shadows on everything now still,
the sun sets,
on this hallowed little hill.
