Does She Know?

She visited so often then, nearly every day.

Now, I've changed. She still wants to play unbridled like children. The world demands more than simple games, doesn't it?

I miss her terribly. Does she know? She waits where I forget to look, in evening grass, alive with cricket-song, in beads of dew the morning leaves hold up. She hides down low in the small things, where the children can easily find her.

Maybe they need her more than I do, the children who don't even know her name. Happiness? Joy? Love? She is Peace.