I Picked Some Flowers

I Picked Some Flowers 

Today I picked some flowers, 

I placed them on a grave, 

Which lay amongst the sunken stones, 

In a sea of forgotten souls, 

All with tales untold. 

The grave was for Grace Mitchell, 

It read she was seventy three, 

Her stone stood amongst the tall grass, 

Left to remind us of her, 

That she was once here. 

I smelled the freshly cut trees, 

Felled and sawn they lay, 

Alongside those lonely bones, 

Just saplings when Grace departed, 

Full of life’s potential. 

I wondered how she laughed, 

How she lived and loved, 

I walked the path she once trod, 

So different it would be for her now, 

Yet somehow the same. 

Two hundred years have swept by, 

Since Grace walked here, 

Forgotten by the generations she birthed, 

Their existence hers to grant, 

They accepted without knowing. 

Her possessions were quickly forgotten, 

The love she shared lingered for a while, 

But now all of her forgotten, 

Save this simple slab of stone, 

Embraced by nature. 

One day when I’m forgotten, 

My existence lost to time, 

I hope some future stranger, 

Will pick some flowers for me, 

And wonder as do I. 

By Lee Fox-Smith 19/05/15