Past the trees,


and into the greying wood.

Calls to me

in low low tones

Along the path

the air is warm, misty.

I hear it 

like a drum 

like a heart

beating in the night.

Sings to me

I need its blessing.

The shadows grow

with the passing of the sun.


Empty and full

I watch the years erased

memory a lurching pain

and still I smile 


for today is dressed in white and blue.




Author's Notes/Comments: 

Watching my grandson play.

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