Cemetary PlayA Poem by B arbara FranzenI am going to share Cemetery Play One night after taking flowers to a grave, I felt as though the spirits were going to come out to dance and play as soon as I left. I come from a German Swedish com.Taking flowers to my friend, I bowed down and whispered
through the ground of loving him About to go I saw the sun stretched across the sky in
colors grand. The grass lawn grown dark, I said good bye. But then I
heard a voice scattered through the brilliant clouds, rubicund,
sapphire, blushing pink, azure, and florid too. I knew it was the spirits
talking, unaware of me or how I heard them making plans for night" voices going
back and forth they said that after dark they’d crawl clean out the grave for
daily dance and tea. And I could see them dancing on the ground, their greeting
face to face. The Germans, Swedish, Danish, English too, and taking corners of
the cemetery"their dress original. These friends they’d waltz about the lawn
till midnight. Taking time for tea, they’d hold the babies and gladly play with the children, having snacks before their final dance, a polka. Or
maybe they'd stay till dawn when time to crawl back down into their graves to
sleep all day Just imagine that and all of their old fashioned ways. Smiling I
can think of no good reason for dreading death. © 2014 B arbara FranzenAuthor's Note
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