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This time sticks, and most times stones
Raised above one’s flesh and bones.
Markers for those who are left,
O’er the one of whom bereft.
Stakes of wood will rot, decay.
Stones last longer (one horse shay).
Mourners, though, are like the wood
Cannot stay like stones will, should.
Markers, then, of wood are fine.
Mourners’ time with them align.
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photo by Michal Zacharzewski at
http://www.rgbstock.com/photo/nq1PRjw/Graveyard
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© Dennis Lange and thebardonthehill.wordpress.com, 2016.
The Bard on the Hill 