Years of herself filled up into
her eyes; a flood of voices
speaking her name.
Over a back fence she sees a path
leading away; looking hard with
passion, the steps in her shoes
hold the line.
She points as if with a dieing hand
to a hill, a place of memories holding
tight to her she feels that day.
A song opens in her mouth, lifting
words into space. She smiles from the
child within her.
Roger Singer 