Mourning

 

I dreamed my mother's death

A week before she died

Replete of years, and tired

Having outlived every friend

 

No sad time of parting, this:

More like time for moving on

Progressing to eternity

No longer tired or sore or stiff

 

I saw her running, young again

Along a shingle beach

Then step, as waves drew back,

Upon that island rock

 

Hand raised scanned blue horizon

Excited, eager, looking out

Spies what my eyes did not see

Smiles, eyes wide welcoming

 

Tide waves swept back again

See – now the beach is clear

Leaving me to ponder as I went

"What did my mother smile to greet?"