Once more, Delores has delivered.
Once more, we put pen to paper.
So to speak.
This week's words? flirtatious, blurred lines, headstone, vixen, discerning and fish
And off we go . . .
When e’re we fly, my man and me,
To countries near or o’er the sea,
We find the old cem-e-ter-ies,
And take a trip through history.
For neatly 'scribed in work so fine
Or written now in blurry lines
We read of lives, low or sublime,
Upon the headstones, lost in time.
The saddest are the children gone,
Those lives stopped short from living on,
Who made no choices, right or wrong,
Called from embraces firm and strong.
With careful steps we move along,
And find some words inscribed with song,
A life well-lived and days so long,
With courage and with faith so strong.
This one, it seems, had loved to fish,
That one’s flirtatious, quite the dish,
A third thought horses so delish,
The best friends anyone could wish.
Here’s a discerning, bookish man,
The next one’s hard to understand,
I see the words ‘The Best’ and ‘Land’,
Oh, there’s the Grandpa of the clan.
A hunter sure, was this man’s claim,
A vixen’s carved beside his name,
Each one unique, and none the same,
Some unknown and some with fame.
Each tells of life or life-to-be,
It’s written there for all to see.
But when I’m gone, an absentee,
What will someone say ‘bout me?