I found your grave today. <br />It was near the path under <br />a weeping willow. <br /> <br />I do not know who planted <br />that tree. It shades your <br />resting place like <br />a natural umbrella. <br /> <br />Your tombstone features <br />a picture of you, <br />smiling in your bridal dress. <br /> <br />I remember that day <br />so vividly. I wonder if <br />you can still <br />remember it too? <br /> <br />I sat at the foot of your grave. <br /> <br />Smoked a cigarette. <br /> <br />Focused on every <br />memory I still <br />held of you. <br /> <br />I am somewhat surprised <br />at how long ago <br />you were alive. <br /> <br />Has it really been <br />over 20 years <br />since the day <br />I watched them <br />bury you here? <br /> <br />I am not a grave <br />visitor by nature. <br /> <br />This day was an exception. <br /> <br />I found your grave today. <br /> <br />The seeds your mother planted <br />have grown into <br />perpetual flowers. <br /> <br />The weeping willow <br />is an impressive <br />symbol <br />of the weeping heart <br />that buried you.<br /><br />Chris G. Vaillancourt<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/weeping-heart-3/
