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| © Margaret Bednar |
Every Sunday finds her
Driving along County Road 6,
A dozen roses in the passenger seat,
Making her way to a simple stone marker
Under the swaying pines.
Some days she talks of the kids,
Her job, his mother,
Other times she sits in silence,
But each visit ends the same way,
With burgundy lips on his granite inscription
And a whispered, “I’ll always love you.”
~~~ This poem was written for a prompt from Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, giving us the option of either writing a form poem (sevenling) or using a photo from the prompt for our inspiration. The picture I chose was from Margaret Bednar, you can find her poetry and photography at her blog Art Happens 365.
13 comments:
Oh this is touching. Such love and devotion.
I agree, this is very touching, as if the connection is still unbroken. Enjoyed this Mary ~
Oh, this is very poignant. The bond of true soul love can never be severed, even in death. (I believe)
Lovely.
This is really tender and moving.
... sigh.
She's lucky to have found him... but so sad to have lost him...
Mary, this rings SO true.
There is something constant about a graveyard. Life tends to pass them by but the stones remain.
True love runs deep! The fond feelings linger on! Nicely Mary!
Hank
Love this germ of a story starter here although also complete within itself...these lines:
"Making her way to a simple stone marker
Under the swaying pines."
are powerful...the contrast of these tall swaying green trees and the short solid solidity of stone.
Great write!!
Oh how poignant.
A simple end story grounded in contrasts opens the door for a novel retelling. And meanwhile, we enter our own story from these words.
I like the burgundy lips on granite inscription.
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