A Quiet Place Poem by Laurence Overmire

I lay you down, my friend
In a field of lost time
When who we were fit so well
Together
A synchronous blending of like mind

But the wind's fatal blast tears
the soil from the roots of
Dead plants
Exposures unable to tolerate
The sun's persistent gaze

I leave you here

A memory for a flower

A sigh and a tear that won't fall

The journey never over
But the passage more difficult
With the cadent count of each
Successive year.

~ Laurence Overmire