Ashes



You carry them down,
Gentle in your hands,
You carry the ashes away.
You wave off your clothes,
Your gloves and your coat,
Though the weather is bitter today.

You make a slow pace,
Poised and proud,
You want passers-by to stare.
There in your hands,
The dust of your Love
For you to turn loose to the air.



Don L. Waddell, 1996





Scheduled for printing in Nature's Echoes, to be published by The International Library of Poetry