I hear empty rooms where children once played
I see empty corrogated boxes they pretended were cars, trains, boats
I feel the prickly pine needles of the tree they planted
I smell that same six foot tall Pine Tree fragrance and I smile
I taste, in memory, baby food breath when one of my babes kissed me
It is with humble pride I view all five, oldest and youngest, men,
          bookends to three women, my two sons and three daughters.