Lonely stands a grey stone
only marks a plot
Birds have found a place to rest
moss now fills a pot.
Sunshine peaks through branches
Outside the world goes by
Sometimes he is thought of
as people wander by.
Morning turns to evening
Night-time gives to day
Day becomes the years and years
that wither us away.
Lonely stands the grave-stones
only mark the spot
single flowers start to bloom
-out of a mossy pot.
Petals are the memories
a stem of life can bare
while moments that are treasured
are moments to be shared.
