green slopes,
manicured lawns,
a paved path
that winds
between the oak trees
beyond
the iron gates.
there's flowers there too.
it's quiet
and stately,
i imagine a fairway
and a green,
a club house
off the first tee,
but there are no sand traps
here,
just stones,
tilted and aged,
inscribed with dates
and names,
with coins left behind,
imprints
of knees that knelt
to pray.
No comments:
Post a Comment