It's a small cemetary on a hill overlooking the harbour.
The sign is rusted and the entry way overgrown.
I enjoy exploring cemetaries. Not sure why. They are peaceful and beautiful and often there are touching messages.
There is no death, what seems so, is transition.
This life of mortal breath is
But a suburb of that life Elysian
Whose portals we call death.
One precious to our hearts has gone.
The voice we loved is stilled.
The place made vacant in our home.
Can never more be filled.
But it is the unexpected that captures my attention.
In the midst of a collection of marble engraved monuments a wooden cross stands out.
What at first glance looked tacky and out of place, upon closer scrutiny was touching and gave me pause.
There, amid the plastic flowers lies a weathered thick envelope.
I lean down to marvel that it is there and wonder about the loving message it contains.
Love is an amazing thing isn't it ?