Cora's Place

By Robert Scott © 1988

Issue: October, 1988

The woods grew thick with brush and vines;
the sunshine tapered thin.
Bare trees and sleeping columbines
drew me deeper in.

A simple Mother Nature walk
on an end of winter day;
But Mother soon began to talk,
pointing me the way.

"There's something here that you must see,"
breeze whispered in my ear;
"Over there!" chirped chickadee,
"Can you tell why it's here?"

Peering through the vines I found
standing all alone
A small grave marker in the ground....
a solitary stone.

Here where no one ever goes,
never ever seen;
Not in neat and grassy rows
with flowers in between;

Instead a calm quiescent place
hiding from the sun.
A memory with out a face....
memorial for one.