The Storyteller in the Graveyard – A Poem

Many of my poems are happy. This one is not.

It’s a lament for the countless stories that are lost, every day, as memories die with the people who lived them. I feel this lament when I walk through a graveyard, when I explore an old house crumbling with age, when I put my hand on a vine-covered old chimney standing all alone where once was a home full of life. The history is so close to me, and yet so far away. All the stories, all the details, are lost forever.

Lost because no one recor...