We were buried here together
When you and I were young
Down in the noisy dark beneath
Where our barefoot children play
In the grass above our heads.
One day when their faces
Are no longer round and smooth
They will leave the grassy place
That our bodies grew for them
To go we know not where.
And when the sounds above have ceased
We will emerge, blinking in the sun.
Not them the busy world forgot
But something new, and old, and just
As changed as our children.
You will brush the dirt from my white hair
I will clean the soil from
The smiling creases of your face
And we’ll go together, hand in hand
Into the life that comes after life.