| Author | Date Entered/Modified | Views |
| Daniel A. Stafford | 8/9/2000 9:41:13 PM 9/25/2022 6:46:39 AM | 985 |
Hand Trim The Grass
Just a childhood memory,
From when I was maybe two or three,
A place Noni & Nono took me to see,
A gray headstone in the cemetery.
Hand shears snip-snipping in the shade and sunshine.
Flowers and memories that weren't mine,
Of someone that time had left behind,
My grandmother's mother resides above,
Maybe one that time had left, but not love.
I doubt I could find it now, except in my mind.
Just an adulthood memory,
Driving past the catholic school where I used to be,
In the cemetery a low reddish stone with letters,
Two I love free of life's fetters,
Gino and Sadie Nofri say the letters.
I can't read the numbers to the right with dry eyes,
But over there Uncle Ross resides,
Every time I drive by,
I can't help looking out of the corner of my eye.
I never will say good bye.
God trims the grass, too.
AquarianM
By: Daniel A. Stafford
(C)2000
By: Daniel A. Stafford
Author's Comments
When I was a child, my grandparents would go to the cemetery once a week in the summer
to trim my great grand mother's grave and put up flowers. I remember helping with the hand
trimmers, those little grass shears. Their grave is in another cemetery, just inside the fence off the
street, right next to where I used to go to school. My brother's house is two blocks away from them
and I am always right next to them in my heart.
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| Author | Date Entered/Modified | Views |
| Daniel A. Stafford | 8/9/2000 9:41:13 PM 9/25/2022 6:46:39 AM | 985 |