by Leigh-Anne Burley

My lover journeys abroad
footsteps swept over
in the forgetting dunes.

The artist’s canvas holds no promise.
Ink dries on yellowing parchment 
in death’s stunning finality.

Another reality unfolds
a tear-smudged face,
torn dusty sandals. 
Flesh-ripping, swallowed 
by hollow bones.

I sit on the widow’s bench
on the well-worn platform 
of an abandoned train station
waiting for the puff of smoke
and the whistle’s blast.

God’s finger lays fresh tracks
and in the offing, 
billowing clouds
crest the hilltop.

---

Leigh-Anne Burley was born in Toronto, Ontario, Canada, and resides in Virginia with her husband. She has three children and six grandchildren. Leigh-Anne has a BA in English and an MA in Pastoral Counseling. She is published in nonfiction, fiction, and poetry. Leigh-Anne enjoys walking and hiking in nature, reading, writing and movies.