Lonely Walk

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Cold gray dawn, mist overcoat

comforting as damp muslin gauze

shrouding the eyes of the detached and departed.

 

Decrepit footpath, cracked and neglected

as the mother’s graves across the field

backs cracked by careless footfalls no doubt.

 

My own gone these many years now

the Belfast Cemetery not far from here

her stone unfound after searching.

 

Somber Irish mist, where legends and relatives mingle

sometimes seen, always there.

 

 

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