The Sun was shining on a quiet evening
So the painting-group dispersed
Over the vast grassland.
I set my easel up in a graveyard
And started on a composition of sinking stones.

A man and woman came silently
Together, holding hands,
And stood before a small grave.
For a long while they stood there
In silence.
Briefly they turned to me,
Saying nothing.

As I continued painting there
I felt myself to be an intrusion amongst them
Yet privileged to be witness to this
Sharing of their own.
The Sun Was Shining on a Quiet Evening