The Visit

Iron gate, unlatched,
cedars quietly swaying;
from the West, a new moon sails by.
On your tomb, neglected –
one wilted rose and a letter of goodbye.

Moonshadows cast scintilla of radiance
on your picture framed by granite:
praying, I pause with clasped hands.

Soon the dawns
will be merry and twittering,
there will be luminous tomorrows.
Keep living –
don’t be drained by sorrow.