On a concrete bench beside a lake
A mother sits in grief’s heartbreak.
Words carved in granite at her feet.
She pays no mind to summer’s heat.
She pauses here in autumn’s chill
Alone she sits in winter’s still.
Alone she sits in quiet peace,
Glad for the honking of the geese
Intruding on her reverie,
Bringing back sweet memory
Of young hands tossing crumbs to ground,
As ducks and geese would crowd around.
The boy is gone; the man has passed.
The bench beside the lake will last.
