The endless meadow of my childhood,

sky a blur of kites,

an ecstasy of light, space, my body

throbbing with tireless motion

on afternoons that promised forever.

My flesh felt lifetimes distant

from that quiet demolition

going on beneath the soil.

Death is too close now for

such an old enchantment.  

That ecstasy has vanished from my bones.

My feet stumble on these gravel paths

as sight fades in early twilight.

I search among the rock-carved names,

pondering the lives they label,

what twists and turns of time

led them to this silent place.

---

Sharon Scholl is a retired college teacher who convenes a poetry critique group and maintains a website (freeprintmusic.com) of her music compositions for donation to small, liberal churches.  Her poetry collections, Seasons, Timescape, Remains, Evensong, Classifieds, are available via Amazon Books.  Her poems are current in  Red Rose, Thorns Journal and e-Merge Magazine.