Some months ago I visited a cemetery and photographed the stones. At the time I was struck by the photos in porcelain of many of those buried there. I have written previous poems about those resting there. Here is one incorporating a line from a poem, "trapped in the frame of an old photograph," graciously provided by Sara from The Shores of My Dreams.
Whose mother, sister, wife, were you,
Living on, forever trapped in the frame
Of an old photograph?
Who took your picture on that day you so
Carefully pinned the lace atop your head?
A life story spanning two centuries is
Now forever buried with you.
You left behind children who endowed
Your stone eternally.
Beloved Mother. Age 63 Years. At Rest.
Forgive me if I have disturbed
With Speculation and Photography.
Eighty years have passed
But your stone still bears witness.