The Park

In the lurking dark she walks,
Her heels of rolling sunder,
A mighty thunder bereft of light.
Along the forbidden park.

Hers is a might unique to those
whose risk of loss is none
for to lose a son is blacker than
the black that plagues the night.

And in her grief a danger swells,
known by none but felt by all.
A tale too tall to live in fiction,
with an ending all too brief.
 
For in the dull, grey, blackened shadows,
the marcher finds her peace
through schemes to cease the senseless pain
and to take her breath away.