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Amidst the sun-bleached stones is placed,

a bench where some may contemplate,

amidst the songs of woodland birds

to gaze upon the deep-carved words

some are sad and some light-hearted,

some are recent, some long departed

familiar names bring forth their faces

while dim memories remain as traces

of perhaps some gathering or event

or with the family, fun evenings spent

now those below who may be gone

but in these memories live on.

Hidden by the flower stalks

I watch the people as they walk

folks would think it rather weird

if they knew I was sitting here

but there are plenty more like me

if people had the eyes to see

meanwhile we will carry on

keeping watch over everyone.

Our ancient ancestors tried to show us how they think

simply by using the tools they had as their pen and ink.

Beneath this stone in sacred ground

is buried a man of great renown

but were the words not on the stone

his deeds would be to us unknown

nor details of his valiant life

and how spent with loving wife

all seven sons and daughters three

they were a well renowned family

their names engraved at different stages

as their lives ended across the ages

Me and my mate Horace

were strolling through the forest

when he saw these two up ahead

he turned to me with a smile and said

that horses ass reminds me of my wife Doris

The vole makes a home

in soft banks where willows weep

a place of refuge

On the ground there lies a tree

if you look closely you can see

a face that looks rather sad to me

so it seems that now I can only

hope the wood’s spirit now roams free

to find a new home and be happy.

Moist eyes appear sad

after the thrill of the chase

predator and prey