she sits up high on wooden seat
beside a lake so neatly fenced
a shawl across her stranded feet
a cushion placed to rest against

her eyes are dark with heavy hood
she speaks of loss and healing time
the sun and how it feels so good
it shines so bright and full of rhyme

bereft of what it is that makes
a woman think herself as whole
now empty barren dry intakes
the warmth pours down and fills her soul

they took her u’t’rus o’v’ries all
still young she lets her teardrops fall