Her walk takes her

to an old cemetery

with a wrought iron gate.

She is standing at the grave

and looks down to see Autumn leaves,

with dew glistening in the morning Sun.

She turns to leave, but must turn back,

and read, once again,

the weather-beaten headstone:

“Behold my dear child, with your eyes of innocence

and poetry in your heart,

The Promised Land”

*