It has been fun,
she says at last.
Pure shock spreads
quickly 'cross her face,
from ear to ear.
Yes, fifty years it's been
and time enough
for shreds of hatred
to   mature
into indifference.
And now she finds herself
at the well-rusted iron portal
of her familiar God's Green Acres
to say one last farewell,
with just one whisper
of a fleeting thought
'bygone it be.'
When unknown arms
of roughness
turn her away.
And from the depth of
one new grave
a melody is heard.
It is the taunting sound of
scornful laughter.