That old rugged cross 🌹

Fragmented dust to dust amongst earthiness as soft as terra cotta clay

Alas no living heart or solaced soul visits her today

As those echoes from the blowing breezes trembles branches that sway..

I wonder where are the mourners when she did leave?

Perhaps she left no lasting legacies so worthy of grieve

Yet her mighty fine name is etched upon this old wooden cross for all to perceive

Was her life filled with grandeur throughout her wonders of weave?  

So here this memory lies today

And she will be buried beneath this unkempt grassiness come what may

Betwixt flattened headstones where other old ashes are grey