tiny spirits
(for a missing child)

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—from here, I'll walk with memory,
along the ocean in my dreams—
capture stillness' wading image,
bow'd and timid beside the stream.
reflections cast light into space—
spring's first flower, a small child's face...
from this door, they'll not be left one trace,
of childish wishes, and tales of yore...
   and our dreams of age, shall come no more.

 

Shannon's Garden Poems  —©/02 DT Culver