Memories snowed under

While London experienced snow, I re-visited one of my favourite places as a child, the graveyard. It was just as I remembered it, save for the snow that now rested on stones and tombs like a thick layer of icing sugar.

If they ever awoke to see themselves what would they think?

Eroded stones and mounted graves lie upon each other

Leaning over and fixed to a halt they stay in their angled state

Vines grow over a tomb so dead, its lush green taking a dull fate

If they ever awoke to see themselves what would they think?

Forgotten land oh so it seems whilst they ferment against one another

Passers walk by weary of the disorder. Their heads do not turn no time for a glance, as glancing would be too much for them

Sacred and stonewashed, cryptic writing engraved, someone was once alive

Although barely standing in the land, the stones muscle together and subside 

Untended to and left alone easy to be stumbled upon

If they ever awoke to see themselves what would they think. 

                                                                                          Wickergirl