Vision

 

A deserted moment that washes over the gray masks

Flamed with tears that weave down from fallen eyes

Over the fields of hope and dreams from long ago

Masks the vision of more than cloudy skies

 

Among tombstones in the larger graveside community

Fleeting images of more then one appear

Making a person pause momentarily to watch

Wondering if tales are as true as they seem

 

Walking over frosted ground brushing away fog

Through the winding paths that make rows among rows

Feet move the path forward but the body holds back

Tripping slightly over the soggy rods

 

Twice more the feet move closer to the noise of death

Wondering over but not making a path on the ground

There is something mystical in the air, a serene beauty

Then suddenly it disappears beneath the weight of air

 

A deserted moment that washes over the gray masks

Flamed with tears that weave down from fallen eyes

Over the fields of hope and dreams from long ago

Masks the vision of more than cloudy skies