Memories from the grave

Sometimes those that have passed, do not move on.

Your time here is never enough
There's always work to do
You sit and stew, fret and twitch
Never quite convinced
So when your number is called
You refuse your passage through the gates

Staying, keeping watch
Over those you've left behind
A gentle scent, a burst of light
to remind us that you are near
Each person is different
As to what they believe

And each spirit visits
In their own ways
A friendly butterfly
The fragrance of a rose
The presence of a toad
Even the reminders of an orange grove

Some you have met while they lived
Some sit a spell, to remind you to forgive
Either way it goes, and regardless of the terms
There are those around us
As above, so below.