A BROKEN STONE

A BROKEN STONE

In ages past, the stone was placed with pride
for the lady who shared fifty years by his side.
Her name engraved with the utmost of care
beside his own name, soon they would share
a spot on the hillside where in eternal rest
they would be together, as in life were blessed.

Yet today the beautiful stone lies broken in two
by young vandals who had nothing better to do.
In the end it makes not a bit of difference at all,
for their souls have answered the maker's call.
The names faded, moss-covered, it stands alone.
No one remembers, it is just a broken stone.

Forgotten souls don't feel the pain or despair
of a granddaughter who searches for them there.
She walks between stones, reading each name,
hoping to find the one that she can finally claim.
Her attention is soon drawn to the broken stone,
and she stands in awe; she has found her own.

She kneels in prayer and places flowers there,
vowing to herself that she would soon repair
the broken stone, and from that very day on
she would honor the memory of family gone.
A gentle breeze reminds her it's getting late
and she walks away toward the old iron gate.

Years pass and still the stone remains,
broken in two, a stone that no one claims.
A faded ribbon from flowers once placed there
shows that someone, sometime, used to care.
Sad is the thought that we so soon forget
to remember those loved ones without regret.

Countrymom
9/23/07