A paupers cemetery beside the dusty road. Years have passed since the gravestones were clearly in view. Someone who cared for the elements of the living is clearly their sense of duty. Occasional curiosities about the lives of the mysterious occupants resting there. Long gone but never completely forgotten. Concern from a stranger the live person never gave himself. Strolling through the rows of the present state of death and the fine trimmed lawns. Some names have faded including the word unknown on a few markers. Along with the memories of the kind souls who put him there to rest. Resting in a paupers grave is not the worst thing. Shows caring toward the poor. When he was alive little concern to visit him. The church groups stop to recite a prayer for the lost soul. All that remains is a brief statement of his life on his gravestone as a truth to the world. A lesson learned and encouraged to never repeat it.
see ya’ next time
