Reflected in a grave

my image stood

and dressed in white the white of light

of butterflies

their wings unfurled to leave this life

so short their span

there she was 

Anne

one day e'en she will bless this site

her wings of life being done

and spiders webs with new spun threads 

bedeck the shining slab

begun again

new life

not hers

and all the tears shed through the years

in vain can ne'er lift her again

she's gone from this earths clod

her bones rot in the sod of churchyards drought

and only this cold hard stone is left 

to point her out

This sudden sight of doom

when in full life she stands

pensive and quiet 

where bees and birds sing lullabies

to all those down below

a wistful wise and holy essence fills the air about

the church walls warmed by suns long beams of light

so timeless is the stillness 

in this place devout

the flowers are still on graves of others

while outside the walls 

the trees are in full bud

and will be ours anon

when they are gone

The way of all things that's the way 

of God's own shout

a resounding thud

the mud embraces all one day

however much we kneel and pray

we die, that's the life eh!

To earth's grey damp our souls on fire

as we descend the funeral pyre

and lifted into memory

we sink again and cease to be.