On My Walk This Evening

On my walk this evening
I walked through the community cemetery.
Noticing names and dates.
Husbands and wives.
Parents and children.
Some my age or older.
Some who died far too young.

Row after row of headstones.
Name.
Dates.
A word or two about who they were.
Some were new and easily read.
Some so weathered by wind and rain I could barely make out the names.

In whispers
Which only my soul can hear
Such places speak to me.
Of love.
Of loss.
Of memories woven in and through the passage of time.
Of life.
Their lives and mine
Which always comes to us as a gift.