"The Tree Where Doves Go to Cry"

Roads we travelled,
Roads remembered.
Time we cheated
Roving away the days.

No King's Road
Or high court,
Yet plenty of needed-
Scenic routes abounded.

Maps of our journey
Resemble our own
Veins & arteries-
Spirit housed topography.

One day each year
You live again
Through each landmark,
Dear Mother, my obelisk.

-for the girl that liked to shoot marbles…