Soft scuffling of grandpas boots on the wet dirt
As he kicks a rock down the path
A soft sigh escapes his lips
And the rock falls into a small mud bath

The sun slowly rising
The new warmth spread across my face
As i close my eyes
I hear grandpa soothing voice
we’ll be there soon he says

I open my eyes to
The dew covering the fresh cut green grass
In the wide open field
The daffodils and tulips ready to bloom
Forming a shield around the new stone
That has been placed in the middle

The place grandma always loved
Her favorite spot for lunch
We’d share the pies she’d baked
And grandpas ham sandwiches

My nose filled with the smell of fresh soil
Grandpa pulls me in my little red wagon
Down the small hill
Its squeaky wheels and long black handle
A handful of daisies
And me in my white sandals

Grandpa pulls up to the stone
And a soft tears escapes his eyes
down his wrinkled cheeks
As he pulls a single **** that had grown

I squeeze his firm hand
The tears fade
And a smile appears
As he kisses my head
And looks up to the sky

Sometimes,
You can smell grandmas perfume
And pies in the field
She sits and waits
As grandpa returns
Day after day
For lunch.