To my dearest grandfather I call him papa 


The Grave

All is silent.

Except

the wind in the trees,

The creek rushing,

The animal sounds.

I discover Flowers all so wild all so beautiful.

A bunny hops up on to my lap I stroke its elegant white fur.

Then I see the grave again.

While I read I think.

On how you taught me so much.

Playing cards, and such.

If only you saw your get well card.

It just might have been your last smile, the one thats worth all the while.

I miss you so picked a bad time to go.

I love you Papa.

But now your at rest with Nana.

 

 





Poetry by Courtney Marie Marion
Read 476 times
Written on 2009-01-16 at 05:10

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it is sad when our loved ones go, loved tribute to how he is apart of you and when he has imparted in your life, that will live on. Hugs
2009-01-16