The Forlorn Cemetery

The headstones are narrow and thin
lightly sprinkled with life for mass
colonies of mosses as old as the interred
cling to their chiseled memory obscuring
names and dates in a cemetery placed
on the outer edge of a town small enough
that a country walk would lead to this
mournful place of serene contemplation
not too far from the homes of families
who loved them, so long ago. Just as
well those headstones of narrow grey
granite now blackened with creeping
lichen have loosened their grip, now
leaning companionably toward the 
others' space, for their quiet communion
has taken the place of family visits and
the cemetery once secluded has become
a busy place, for the narrow country road
is now a highway, the constant distraction
of a harried pace the modern era has
gifted to the present providing the quaint
sight of a dilapidated field of graves, a
split-second vision motorists are never
quite certain they've passed en route.