Memoirsofamadlife

Elizabeth

In the light of the day

there are no numbers

the moss hides the shadow

across the silver laden stones

 

Searching as the sun streams

alighting lines across the way

flitters dust like fairies

in the shadows of the graves

 

Brushing away the florets

of the silver tinged moss

lies the Beloved Mother

whose place is no longer lost

 

Closing away the mystery

of a namesakes pictural

beloved Great-great grandmother

no longer a forgotten marker