Paris
By Rebecca H
Published 23 February 2021
The stone, heavy in my hand,
Settles into its home above your grave.
Gently, reluctant to compress you.
Leaves,
scattered,
settled,
push into the earth,
marking your place in the garden.
Blackberry tendrils reach across your grave;
A comfort, a promise your resting place is seen,
Remembered.
The heaviness settles in my heart,
As I leave you, buried beneath the giant gums.
