There’s an eerie sense of calm,
while entering the Sleepy Hollow Cemetery.
There’s a silence that could render you speechless.
The winds blows, rustling the everchanging leaves.
They jostle about, coloring the dull surroundings as they land on grey stones.
The stones are from years long ago,
a time almost forgotten by most.
History calls out from the stones,
outwardly imploring to reccount each story, every triumph and failure of the time.
Whispers can be heard in the wind,
faint echoes of stories reverberating off of cold stones.
You only have to stop your bustling for a moment to listen.
You can only hear if don’t try.
You will only hear if you acknowledge their truth and respect the hollow ground, the history that never really died…