Notes About The Poem
For Cemetery Poetry Contest sponsored by Constance La France
Trip to the Cemetery
As I remember, I was about six years old
the day Aunt Edie babysat.
Why weren't any of my brothers home?
Was Mom stressed with me? Maybe that.
We talked for many hours about everything,
all that was on my mind.
I had never known a lady to be
so patient, gentle, and kind.
Later, my mom said that my aunt was surprised
I had so much to say,
because my mom said I was painfully quiet.
In essence, my aunt said, "no way".
My aunt took me out for lunch on that sunny day.
We sat outside together.
With pieces of tortilla from my first burrito,
we fed our friends with feathers.
Next, we went to buy some colorful flowers.
We agreed they were pretty,
as was the green grass we saw next
in the quiet cemetery.
She grew pensive, contemplative and subdued
as she placed each bloom.
I joined her in quiet observance and smelled
the blossoms' sweet perfume.
For me, it felt like I had been honored
to share in her grief
for a husband, long since dead,
as a gentle breeze blew a leaf.
The man was not her current husband,
the uncle known to me.
Years later my mom said I must be mistaken.
It was her grandpa we went to see.
Could be she was right about that -
I was only six years old.
But I will forever remember that day,
a memory to have and hold.
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