At The Cemetery
The dead below, the living above
We dance our dance and then we die
The sun is shining on the stones
With messages of hope and joy.
The baby sleeps within her crib
We come each year with flowers
She’s always young while we grow old
We dance around our tears.
And earth is turning, turning slow
A never-changing dance
Of marigolds that glow and die
Beneath the lonely stars.
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