Overcoming Fears

The sodden soil begrimes the kneeling knees
of those who visit (few and far between)
some frail old tombstone setup by the trees,
inscriptions etched in lines of three and four
our happy choir boy sleeps all alone.
A plot of land reserved for Master Smith -
arrays of neighbours lie back in the gloom
in silence through a graveyard. Rest in peace!

I remember how afraid you were one night
when we came across the same arrays of stone.
The moon shone silver on your face - a sight
it was, all painted white; now white has turned
to grey epitaph. Of course, you transformed strange -
my friend met dusty death in lands of change!