The mist upon the river banks
Beckons eerily to me.
The beauty and the memory
Of a lifeless form I see.

The radiant face that stood before me,
Whose beauty I embraced,
The ghostly sullen silence,
When again my steps I traced.

The lapping of the water
Irrupts upon my mind,
Some tortured kind of comfort
By the river now I find.

How dare you stand and look at me
Factitious is your grief,
The tears I shed comfort me
And bring me great relief.

Imagine for a moment
That the path I tread were yours,
Would you not seal your soul
And lock your hearts doors.

So when you look at me and see my pain,
And how tortured are my days,
Be kind, be gentle and look away
Allow me my grieving ways.



Linda J. Vaughan
26th. February 2008