An Urn of Cough Drops The Graveyard Keeper

The Graveyard Keeper

Good evening Graveyard Keeper,
Tell me, how is life tonight?
I hoped that I would find you here
To set my soul aright.
It seems so awfully quiet,
But for branches and the blow,
Of leaves in brittle triumph
Scratching walkways lain in stone.
It’s pleasant Graveyard Keeper,
That the hours you choose to keep,
Are hours beneath a moonlit sky	
While living bodies sleep.
Tell me, Graveyard Keeper,
Is there ever laughter here?
Is every month October,
And every smile a tear?

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