Eva
Whose mother, sister, wife, were you,
Living on, forever trapped in the frame
Of an old photograph?
Who took your picture on that day you so
Carefully pinned the lace atop your head?
A life story spanning two centuries is
Now forever buried with you.
You left behind children who endowed
Your stone eternally.
Beloved Mother. Age 63 Years. At Rest.
Forgive me if I have disturbed
Your peace
With Speculation and Photography.
Eighty years have passed
But your stone still bears witness.
7 comments:
Very interesting. One can only wonder at such things. Such thoughtful words.
This was lovely- and I think gravestones are so important for those of us left behind. The stones do bear witness of a once beautiful life...
Beautiful, Sarala...
I like! The line you chose speaks volumes, you used it very well to tell this simple but moving story, ask questions. Nice.
I often wonder like that about people in graveyards, especially where there are photos. She's got a wonderful face.
I find cemetery very peaceful places.
Undisturbing.
Liked this poem for its wistfulness.
Thanks for using my line. I too have found myself wandering about the lives of the people whose gravestones you walk past on the way to visit your relatives. And the older the stone is the more intriguing the possible story becomes. You really captured that in this poem.
*pointing to all of the wonderful comments, then nudgin' ya a little*
See? Told ya it was good.
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