Uncle Peter

Don’t come to the cemetery at night Peter Xalxo would say If you are so inclined make your visits in the day For often in the evening when exam worries were gone I would go to the cemetery and sit on some tombstone. I think boy the ones from the other world make visits at nights And they would not love to find living souls upon their sights Why intrude their peaceful home and not leave them there alone When the time after the sunset they think to exclusively own! Having said this with a grave face he would lower his voice still low While on nightly posts at the graves I’ve seen in the dark some glow And at moonlit nights on duty’s round heard footsteps around me I would advise boy not to step into at night at the cemetery. He used to tell more such tales to instill in the boy some fear But come the next evening and at the cemetery I would reappear For I loved the moon bathed solitude the trees’ darkened shed The tranquility of the place in quiet company of the dead! All said I wouldn’t leave out in this account one truthful fact Uncle Peter’s stories had effects on the boy some impact They colored my times at the cemetery spent at nights alone I seemed to feel they were moving the graves’ marbled stone. Then one night as I was coming out around nine o’clock To my horror found the gate closed hanging an iron lock Bewildered I stood there knowing no other ways to go When there appeared a shadow heard the voice of Peter Xalxo. I told you boy not to loiter here not disturb their peace of night This ground here the dead walks now though beyond your sight Run home and never come back his voice in whisper talked Some more words he mumbled when got the gate unlocked. Next day at the dinner table my father told mom this He was such a good man and a great friend to miss But God only decides in his garden which flower to pluck Peter Xalxo died last evening suffered a heart attack.