She loved you as a child and so comes
As a child in the late evening,
To rest her hand upon the earth.
You taught her to believe
In what she could not see
And so she believes she feels your warmth
There, and cries tears she could not
Cry for you while you were living.
Having nothing to say, she rests in the long
Grass beside your stone, discovered—
Chance meeting of friends, one odd
Conversation—in a supermarket,
Years later.
She rests until the child
Is quiet, as her love is now quiet,
In the green field where she leaves
You sleeping.
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