to the place where I can't change what is
or bring back a single event to re-live exactly
and erase a single tear, whether spoken or not.
In the inexorable recreation of life, inexactly
I am determined to honor these soft places
where King's horses and men have failed.
But I will not attempt to do what they could not.
Yet surely I will line the path with ground-pine
leaves of oak, ever-blooming iris and daffodil
All of which are much older and wiser than my life
and all I could ever hope to be and simply knowing
this is touching and what a cemetery is to me.