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THEY ARE GONE

They are gone, the happy times, when with
Fingers locked, we stepped through soft
Wet grass that squeaked beneath our feet.
Gone the times we gazed with open hearts
At sweet young flowers, their tilted faces
Smiling, their slender bodies quivering in
The gentle breeze.

Gone the times we walked near flashing silver streams

And heard our laughter

Echo through the still and massive mountain crags.
Gone the times we stood on hilltops,
Watching distant purple mountains swallow
The brilliant glory of day.

Gone the tender moment when Darkness
Wrapped her cape about us, blotting out the world
Of trial and care.

Nature fills the open heart that loves,
Yet stabs the sorrowing heart
When love is lost. Yes,
They are gone,

The times we laughed and lived and loved
As one.

Judy Jones

LULL

The marvel of marble

is walking alone:
echoes and hollows, silk-soft,

and VOices ..•

Tears fall on marble

and wistful words rise
Lovers meet

and are parted
on stark marble lakes.

But of marble
The marvel is walking

alone.

Witherite

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