After attending the funeral service for Sweet Meg today I entered a quiet house since my son went to a friend's for the afternoon. Not intending to, I leafed through some old poetry I'd written in 1977 and happened upon a perfect poem to speak of my heart.
A gentle breeze
sweeps through the playground,
swaying the swings
back and forth...
back and forth...
leaving only a memory
of the children
who once played there.
This Sweet Meg is for you,
and all the other children whose life was too short for our liking,
or our understanding...
