Tombstones lean back and forth <br />Like a snaggled old mouth <br />So close together <br />They meld into stunning marble splendour <br /> <br />Pathways are blocked, overgrown and easy to fall <br />Catacombs barred to the rapists of our legacy <br />Dare I say that the Victorians <br />Treasured and built their monuments - <br />Maybe their way of being remembered <br />Always. <br /> <br />I cannot think of the deceased in their black plumed <br />Horse and carriages <br />Without the feeling that someday I will be here <br />Amongst the people I have always respected <br />In the dappled light with no sound. <br />Why does this haven bring me comfort.<br /><br />willow moon pearce<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/victorian-graveyard-london/
