Saturday, September 17, 2011


by Holly Spencer

Summer sun, cotton white clouds
A walk down the avenues of
stone. Names like stories written
upon the tablet of time.
When moonlight glows
the haunting sonant’s hang
mid-air, songs of the dances of life.
Memories like stone-
fading with the travel of time.
Tributes that struggle to remain
etched in time of stone.  
September 10, 2011
"I wrote this yesterday when I got home from Coopersville to get Lucky her flea medicine. I drove down Main Street to see shops closed...can't get enough business. On down the road and at the last minute pulled into Polkton Twp Cemetery where Harry Spencer is buried with 'brother' John, the mystery brother. Harry's stone is flat to the ground and half buried. This poem came to mind on the way home. Harry brother of Medad. Sincerely, Holly"

Lovely poem, Holly. Thanks for sharing!


  1. Hey, YOu put Harry's picture up too! I am going to call the sexton to see if they can pull his stone up (unless it ends up costing me!)

  2. Wouldn't be complete without Harry's photo!