now that your gone

three crosses on the ground
all around me, no sound
queit earth, a sacred place
only memories of a face
i feel the sun shine on me,
a small summer breeze
flowers that have collected dust
pieces of iron incased in rust
solitude, what do i feel?
a need to remember you were real?
name on a marker made of glass
when all good things come to pass
why do i come here, pray tell
"it numbs a living Hell"