Defile of a Graveyard

I hate it when kids defile my graveyard. It's bad enough being dead, but watching someone draw on my family's tombstones was worse. The living have no respect for what has come before them, and it makes me mad. The only living person I like is the beautiful woman who keeps the dreary place as clean and tidy as she can. I watch her putting fresh flowers on all the graves and clearing away the dead ones. It's nice to know at least someone cares. I know she can't hear me, but she does feel me hovering and occasionally seems to see me. She's of my blood, that is all I know. I don't even remember my name as I walk between the stones I know are cold, but I can't feel myself. She sits with me under the old tree after she's done tidying up the place. She brings colour to the grey place and sound to a place that lacks even the birds' cheerful chirps. Maybe they are there, and I can't hear them. Some days it's harder to be aware than others, but the kids defiling the place give me energy to at least scare them off!