Stood the One Sad

At the foot of her cross,
Not a tear in her eye,

Set to climb up. A one
Who’d had no child at all,

Not a man, not a god,
Not a babe, not a son,

Had grown old and was fine,
She said. Just a bit sad,

Not for that lack of roles,
Just not to get to stay.

She grinned at me, glanced back
At her cross, shook her head,

And laughed. I’d like to stay,
But now it’s time for bed.