After an Air Raid

By DOROTHY QUICK

THEY met on the top of a flower-strewn hill
Where the soft clear air was cool, was still.
They looked at each other with glad surprise
And a new sweet light was in their eyes.
They stretched out their hands and their fingers met;
They renounced the world without regret
For they knew, in that instant, they were one,
And a new existence had just begun.
So it did not matter, the two ghosts said,
That the world they'd left would call them dead.