by December 17, 2011 0 comments

she climbs
skips on
jumps down
runs back
to start the adventure all over again.

On the day they laid to rest
my mother
along side my Papa
she hop scotched
on nameplates of service men, women
whose best dances of life
reverberated on battlefields
from the Civil to the Middle Eastern.

The three year old never noticed
the dates of birth, departure
but enjoyed the words, the community
who paid tribute on 11-11-11
to her Nana
her playpal
who surely gazed upon her
from a distance
and remembered
what it was like
to run on the grass, pick flowers for the fun of it
and return to the loving arms
of her parents…

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