Rustle of the leaves are heard by all,
None can prevent it from a dead fall,
What’s old will shed one day,
In the silent grave will they lay,
Quiet and calm without a sound,
They will adjust in the small grave mound.
Soon these souls will leave for the eternal miles,
Helplessly watching some tearful faces hiding smiles,
Mother Earth will take in the flesh leaving the bones,
That will be guarded by the beautiful grave stones,
With mounted garlands and candles glowing,
All will stow memories as time will start flowing. Continue reading Who will wipe their tears?