Ruth Helen Uhrig 1888-1908

Ruth Helen Uhrig 1888 – 1908 I remember the Indian summers most of all. The drowsy balmy days of late September and early October. I remember the calming chorus of the trees, Especially here in Clark Cemetery, With the benign wind caressing the still branches, Teasing and tickling the leaves, Performing masterfully, The silent music of a thousand lazy afternoons. Listen. Can you hear it? And I recall that afternoon in 1903 While standing under the shady pepper tree, Here in Clark Cemetery That moment of sweet virginal bliss. That long-forgotten one second in time, When that blue-eyed fox named Roscoe Kissed me, a mere girl of 15, on the lips. There, on the threshold to my very soul! Oh, the true joys of life are so simple and so fleeting! And finally, To my friends in old Whittier town, I discovered after my demise that, There is a happy way to die and a sad way to die. And it will all depend on how well you treated people while alive. Thankfully, I died the happy way. In my sleep. Dreaming of the silent music, On a long-ago afternoon in September, Under the old shady pepper tree, Here in Clark cemetery