Her vision is intense and defined.

Is that stone wall rising before her eyes

Really there or only in her mind?

I can feel the pressure in her breast as she sighs.

The tree behind her has lost its leaves.

Stark weathered branches reaching to the sky.

Is that a symbol for whom she grieves?

Does she even know or wonder why?

The pine brings life into her reach,

But she is looking away from the greenery.

What is above her that she doth seek?

What turns her away from the luscious scenery?

Is it real or is it merely how she feels?

Grief … the consummate, ultimate thief. 

–Deborah A. Bowman