WIDOW AT THE GRAVESIDE

Barely
But a whisper
Locked in grief
Eyes look down
To the frozen
Uncaring blanket
Of snow covered
Bitter ground.

A gust of wind
Without promise
Lifts a lock
Of greying hair
Tears imprisoned
In blurred eyes
So many years
In the stare.

Winters nature
Bare and beautiful
Though cruel upon land
Accepts your silent kiss
With all its love
As you stand.