Epitaph

She lived alone though not completely,

for she had her words,

words of far away memories

knocking, uninvited,

wrapping around well-chewed pencils

etched on dog-eared bits of paper

stained with many a cup of coffee

and sometimes tears that fell uncontrolled,

words of love, of joy, of lament

even words of unfeigned doubt.

She forfeited her heart

to learn the ways of the world

but always returned to the soothing streams

windswept trees and grassy knolls

of wide-open spaces.

Breathing joy at a flower's first buds

she wept softly in a glowing sunset,

marveled at a mountain's loftiness

closing her eyes to feel its gentle mists.

These too found their way into her words

exchanging secrets for the mere chance

to be worthy of her deification.

The world knew her not nor called her name

yet she asked for nothing and gave her all

in poignant poems that will live forever.