"Two wrongs may not make a right but a thousand wrongs make a writer.”

Sunday, January 13, 2019

Hauling Water


“It takes a heap of livin’
                                                            to make a house a home.”
                                                                        -Edgar Guest


Their door is locked
as they would never have it.
Curtains drawn
as they would never have it.

We dug her roses,
worms clinging to the root ball,
transplanted to where
they will be seen and tended.

Locked doors and drawn curtains
lead one to wonder
what’s going on in there.
It’s all a big secret kept from those
with no need to know what’s going on.

The old flowerbeds are choked with the weeds
she tamped down with the tip of her cane—
chives under the branching daffodils,
dirt soft and loamy from years of tending.
Mums in there somewhere, waiting their turn.

The footing is set for the headstone
and plastic flowers adorn graves
for Memorial Day.
But we hauled milk cartons of water
to and fro for the red geraniums planted there.
One foundation laid, another taken away.
New cement may be poured over mums
and sleeping tulips but we have pictures.
We know what was there.

2 comments:

Anthony Duce said...

Enjoyed in a sad knowing way… Memory, loss and the desire to explore..
Was nice to see you posting again..

Yvonne Osborne said...

Thanks Tony!!
What is art except about loss?