Graveyard

A single teardrop etches its

way down her pale cheek

Her head hung low

looking down at her bare feet

The cold wet grass and the

cold gray of the stone

in her vision

As she reads the stone marker

she raised her tear stained

face to the heavens

and began to cry - Why!

2-97

© 1998 All rights reserved by Jeanne Gillott

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