We drifted through the grey stones,
Looking left.
Looking right.
Always looking wrong.
43 women with your name lie here,
amongst the trim green grass and dried, bunched flowers.
43 women who share a name.....
Do you all begin to blur in memories,
as time blurs days of childhood ?
Or are you still sharp in someones mind, as you are sharp in the picture in my hand.
All those women who shared your name,
and we could find only two.
And neither of them was you.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 6:27 PM UTC
We drifted through the grey stones,
Looking left.
Looking right.
Always looking wrong.
43 women with your name lie here,
amongst the trim green grass and dried, bunched flowers.
43 women who share a name.....
Do you all begin to blur in memories,
as time blurs days of childhood ?
Or are you still sharp in someones mind, as you are sharp in the picture in my hand.
All those women who shared your name,
and we could find only two.
And neither of them was you.
Still looking for his Mothers resting place.
Request permission to use this poem