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.
1 comment:
I understand your feelings on the birth date of your precious son. I have a daughter who no longer gets to celebrate her birthday--I always remember the joy I felt on that special date that she was born, and I feel sad when others forget that a miracle occurred on that very day giving us great joy for more than 19 years.
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