Amongst the graveyard ghosts # Sharon olds

Walking down the potholed road
Just me and lonlely steps. corns were pinching
New shoes just for vanitys sake
Swearing" the white ones fitted like a glove"
Do you think that God would care
He was never at home when you called
Come self doubts, question marks fall capsized
 Prayers screemed from quavering lips
The lych gate creaked
It signaled the road to come
Some carried crying, and some in white
Confetti and rice in your pockets
The gravestones they tell another tale
Why do they tilt
Stop it she thought, gilt or pleasure
An answer somtimes it comes
Small moments like new shoes that pinch
" to late now to spoil youself" was wrote on her headstone