A boy sits on a family member's grave in 1940.
Where there was once a family,
there is none,
at this simple family cemetery,
on a hill under the sun.
Their years were lived,
on a nearby farm a century ago,
much like families today,
it was great love they did know.
There were trials and tribulations,
with the family that once lived near,
as the years claimed each,
no one left to tear.
The old headstones casting shadows,
askew with moss overgrown,
host old styled names from yesteryear,
names simply no longer known.
The legacy of this family,
lies peacefully under the sun,
where there was once a family,
there is none.
James W. Spain
