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Poem

FOR MOST A WREATH


a crown of delight
a circle of hope
a knocker’s decoration

december came knocking
just before christmas
it was the brisk wind

a baby removed from her crib
from the one who used to
play peek-a-boo with her

a christmas without a tree
a wooden truck nearby
crafted by a carpenter

three days before christmas
a truck explodes past a stop sign
a card exposed to tire treds

we make a solemn trip
in the cold dark winter
two beloved children return

to the place they were born
they don’t even mourn
for their grandpa is dead

Kim Rodrigues © December 2016

My Grandpa died when I was 2 years old. They put a wreath up that year. He never liked them for they used to signify the death of a loved one. Many years later, my Grandma says, “You know you were your Grandpa’s favorite” So I dedicate this poem to him who was a carpenter but also a poet!

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