A teddy bear hugs the dirt
Next to a dozen roses bouquetted in grass.
This is not the fate intended
By those who left these tokens of grace.
But the wind and the rain owe no mercy
To lonely headstones and their favors.
And gifts given soon whither and die
So true to their recipients they are.
Stone holds the more steady service,
Stands it's constant post,
Taking no heed of how many letters are read
Or how many tears join night sprinklers.
Choosing instead to hold vigil
Far past when the last teddy bear is left.