The Groundskeeper -- Unicorn

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Date Posted: 02:17:30 09/17/02 Tue
Author: misfit
Author Host/IP: ACAE4B25.ipt.aol.com / 172.174.75.37
Subject: The Groundskeeper

THE GROUNDSKEEPER

I love the chill of a cemetery at dawn
The glistening dew dancing on the grass
The crisp coldness of dawn's kiss
The grogginess of the raven hunting for a morning snack
The iciness of granite against your back
As you lean against a fading marker
The souls begin to stir
As they awaken to greet the morn
Eager anticipation
Of what friend or relative may pay a visit
The giddiness
Of what kind of flowers that will be brought
If they are remembered
I look at them with sympathy
But i confess, i am envious
A day without worry
I stand and greet the sun
Turn to my friends........
Good morning

I love the smell of a cemetery at noon
The freshness of the newly cut grass
The sweet aroma of daffodils that have been placed
The faint cries of the raven off in the distance
Seeing the smiles of the souls
As they receive their guest
The contrast of the visitors
With their tears of joy and their tears of sorrow
It is good to be remembered
But there are those who are not
The desperation in their eyes
The longing of memories
As told to them by another
I feel the pain in their hearts
I stand and blind my eyes to the sun
Turn to my friends........
Good afternoon

I love the site of the cemetery at dusk
The silhouettes of the granite tombstones
The orange hue upon the landscape
Vivid colors now fading
The raven spreads his wings to survey his realm
The souls are spent from the happenings of the day
You can feel the excitement
As they exchange their stories
And proudly announce who sought them out
A child, a parent, a war buddy, a friend
A stranger who just needed to talk
The feeling to be needed is still prevalent
The souls laugh and cry
Embrace and frolic
They again, are vindicated
I stand and say good-bye to the sun
Turn to my friends........
Good evening

I love the horror of a cemetery at midnight
The black cat who arches his back atop a headstone
The bright yellow glow of a full moon
The dense fog rolling in to dampen the soil
The sound of the raven
Sharpening his beak against a marble slab
The souls are tucked away now
Dreaming of who they may see tomorrow
But for those forgotten few
It is their time
Time to vent their frustrations of being alone
Now that their mortal counterparts have forsaken them
They dance around the willowed trees
Soar eerily over the mausoleum
Wail hauntingly at the moon
They revel in the night
A way to help subside their emptiness
For hopes of the possibilities of tomorrow
It seems happy here
A society free of fears and worries
No race, creed, or religion
No drudging up past horrors
They are at peace with difference
I stand and smile at the moon
Turn to my friends........
Goodnight
misfit poem
8/30/02

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