Passing the cascades of water,
Inhaling the rich scent,
Brushing against the soft grass,
Taking in the surrounding beauty,
Hearing the small chirps,
Singing out loud with joyful tones,
All things you do,
All things they don't,
They look through rotted wood,
Peering above the stone and dirt,
You prance to their resting place,
Placing flowers of affection,
Knowing how they hate lilies,
Laughing at the irony,
But what is it to them?
After all,
They are just a lost soul,
Never to be found again,
Never to be held,
Never to smile,
Never to breath,
Reaching out from their grave,
The unheard cries of the dead.
