If She Left
If She Left
I would take my grief to the moon.
Only that night’s one flower
Would hear me.
Time this time could not stay
My tears.
Inroads she made on me:
Walks, paths, most private woods
Are hers.
So much of her dear love
Out of time’s travel lives,
Will suffer no erosions
From its flowing qualities.
Only the owl could speak some comfort
From sad trees.
Yet sacred stones, altars of sorrow
Stand.
© The Estate of Ronald M. White
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