Author’s Note: This poem was written when I was a junior. It was an assignment. We were supposed to think of a place, and write about it as if we were there. Hopefully, it isn’t all that bad.

 

Resting Place

 

In my lonely cemetery,

There is an eerie silence

Except for the unseen wind

Blowing through the large dark trees,

And the slight chirping of the crickets

Making their own quite music.

I sit on the cold dirt in which I was buried,

And feel the emptiness.

My pale skin, numb,

Tingling with every move I make.

Looking up at the trees,

Watching the branches sway,

Dancing in the wind.

This place that is now my home

Is very peaceful;

A place where I rest for all eternity.

I pay the tombs around me no mind,

And just listen to the calmness of the night.

An owl hoo’s in the distance then flies away,

Never again heard this night.

This same routine goes on and on throughout the night,

Each night

Until the sun rises.

At the first glimpse of color in the sky

It’s time for me to rest.

I lie on the ground next to my lonely tomb

And fall into another world;

A world of peace.

 

By Tiffany Kremer