Sombre lilies
stutter the undergrowth;
rust and green lichened headstones
lean tiredly
against each other,
their weathered messages
whispering of departed souls.
Dead leaves carpet the graves
and crisp brown fern fronds
dip in respect.
In defiance of rusty railings
erected by long-gone mourning parents
a spindly lancewood sprouts
from the heart of a child.
Steal softly with whisper steps
through my new life
note the musty rumpled sheets
the lingering image of a
crooked smile
in the bedroom mirror
a soundless television flickers
in a forgotten corner
while the remnants of a
bottle of bubbles
exhale wearily
and while I cradle you tenderly
like brittle eggshells
two towels
on the bathroom rack
reassure me that happy times
have come back.