They Lay Dead

This morning, I stared at the quiet of the graveyard. I thought of the young and the old, that might lay dead there. Then after, what seemed a long time, I gaped at the colorado high. There were the rockies, the sunlit barren and the alpines. There were the tiny houses in the valley, shining white; a lake thereby with somewhat muddy, somewhat clear, blue waters. Along with a brimful of beauty, some peace seeped in from the corner of the eye, and there was the quiet of the graveyard, as some thoughts young and old, lay dead there.