Many memories of May

She spoke softly as we talked of magic.
I remembered how much I missed my mother. May is full of remembrance.
How I wished the shuffle of her feet still moved across the earth.
Now I have my own steps, moving with the music, joy, and sorrow that life gives me.

When I fall asleep the ghosts visit me.
I sat in a graveyard last spring,
enchanted by this one grave marker...
it was made of wood and the grass was encroaching,
and trying to make it disappear.
The wet grass stained,
I caught my breath.
The next time I sat in a cemetery was to bury her.
I said words, no one else did.
All I have is the earth of the town named "Ash Tree",
and the memory of shuffling feet.