Sad poetry...Called Home

These gates are placed in cement.
These gates encase your kin.
These gates are made to keep things out,
and keep the dead within.

This place is for those deceased.
This place for those entombed.
This place is for the lonesome souls,
to dwell, to lurk, to loom.

These stones are made of marble.
These stones are made of tears.
These stones are made of memories,
with written names and years.

This place is peaceful now.
This place, I'm not alone.
This place holds all my love,
until I am called home.