VIRGINIA BACH FOLGER
TO HIS ASHES
I walked quickly when I went out.
The house I left is ours no more,
the apple tree felled.
The seasons turn,
geese are flying south.
Fall winds blow,
scarlet leaves clutter the ground.
You are gone now. I grow old.
One day, when I follow
through the light-filled tunnel,
do not come forth to greet me.
I will not know your face.
Virginia Bach Folger lives in Schenectady, New York. She has worked as a gas station attendant, paralegal, switchboard operator, claims adjuster and corporate learning and development manager. Her poems have appeared in The Fourth River, Adanna, Horticulture, and Constellations: A Journal of Poetry and Fiction.