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The Web Poetry Corner

Susan Griffith


Taft, CA, US

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The Bells in the Steeple


Susan Griffith

Bury me under the leaves
where I'll be warm.
On a windy day, the leaves will talk to me
and keep me from harm.
I'll hear the children play
as they rake "pretend houses"
and make fun at "hide and seek"
'Don't peek'.
Though I've wandered far and near,
bury me here
under this kind
graceful tree,
fair, even when bare
of the wonderful leaves of her hair.
At evening, Mother will call
and the steeple bells will chime.