The Marker

The Marker

Kathleen McNamara


Rusty hinges screeched their protest
as I pushed open the heavy gate.
Beyond the fence lie answers.
So why do I hesitate?

Talon sharp limbs quiver
in the salty scented breeze.
So much sadness in this small space,
the tree wept tears of leaves.

I watched the wavy wisps of fog
dance o'er the mossy ground,
and under the light of a slivered moon
saw the lonely little mound.

So heavy was the air of gloom
my footsteps made no sound.
With anxious heart I made my way
and knew the answer would be found.

I had over heard them chatting.
Her ship foundered on the sea.
When at last they found her body,
she was buried 'neath the tree.

It's true, the stories that they tell.
The marker bears the name
of the young beauty who was lost at sea...
my only claim to fame.