Beneath the upturned dirt

that lies beside the tombstone,

bleeding hearts weep

and run down to the pond’s

shoreline, blending with

the wrenching croaks

of the bullfrog, cries

escaping its belly.

 

Generations leave white roses

carefully placed along the

cold marble stone’s bottom—

some laced with regret,

others sorrow, and still more

with cherished memories.

 

Seasons past, the bullfrog

wishes goodbye to the swan

only to welcome him

again come spring.

 

A little boy wipes the

dew that’s kissed his father’s headstone

before running to the lake,

leaving his mother behind

in a distant memory,

to see how the milkweed pods have opened.