The Mourning Meadow

The bright sunbeams peak around the treetops
The grass and weeds was as wild as we were.
Playing tag- taking turns being "it."
Cousins and kinfolk are causing a stir.

Such great memories of simpler times
Seem so vague now standing in the rain.
One by one, we will all take our turn
Being "it" but then free of aches and pain.

Now we all gather in the meadow
Paying our respects, saying so-long.
The old trees still whisper chilling tales
Who was first, and recent to belong.