Dream Meeting

Grief, that weathered sidekick,
turns back to look through bleary eyes.

Then tugs my leather wristband
with her strong and hungry fingers

as we walk, talk and
struggle along these ragged

sidewalks. Concrete cracked,
ravaged rough and weary
by roots of birch, oak and loss.

And through the leaves above
we spy the silken silvery moon;

she shines pure grace and mercy
upon our scuffed stumbling boots.