I don't mind a stroll through cemeteries, not at all;
They're lush and green in summer and delightful in the Fall.
In winter they are bracing and provide much open space;
In springtime they abound in Mother Nature's gentle grace.
People do not walk their dogs across such hallowed ground,
So I never have to face down any rabid hound.
Thomas Gray was right to think they're peaceful and serene;
No one's hawking popcorn or cold soda with caffeine.
The lawns are tended carefully and maybe an old friend
Will have a splendid stone set up from money I did lend.
The people that you meet there do not come for any lark;
They do not act like nincompoops at some amusement park.
The weary world is distant and ambition is restrained,
Though death remains a stranger that I do not want explained.
I never dwell on what's beneath my footsteps as I trod;
Cuz I am with the living while they are with their God.
It's nice to have a place to go that's always circumspect;
A spot that's cared for tenderly when all the world is wrecked.
Just to set the record straight – it helps to be quite wary –
No matter how I look today my visit's temporary!
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