The gravestone remembers him well
resting beneath the ancient tree
in the woods by an old farm road
that ends in an abandoned lea.

He had been there for a long time
the gravestone remembers him well,
the day when he was laid to rest
how tears from broken hearts fell.

how many stories could he tell
of sacrifice, of life, of love
the gravestone remembers him well
his secrets are a treasure trove.

Though no prayers rise in his name
nor hands tend to his humble cell
though time passes and the world forgets
the gravestone remembers him well.

4 thoughts on “FORGOTTEN

  1. I like how the impact of a person could perhaps reach out from the grave, memories and a person’s living actions may “live on.” Beautiful poem! 🙂

    1. Thank you, Robin. True, the memories live on until nobody (not even the descendants remember) anymore. That is such a sad thing – when finally finally one is truly dead.

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