Ode to the Dew

Spring mornings filled with new life
My feet in the wet fresh cut grass
My brother holds my hand with a gentle grasp
We play with worms coming from the ground
My pink dress becoming tarnished
My smile becoming wider my feet dirtier
I look at my mother coffee in her hand
My father's newspaper covering him from view
My grandfather sleeping in the lawn chair
My grandmother smiling widely at us kids playing
My happiness known by a sweet giggle
My love for life known by the kind embrace of my brother
Now I'm older and no longer a child
I again sit in the morning dew
With a small stream of tears dripping down my face
My brother in the corner looking out to the distance
My mother with a tissue in her hand
My father with his hands covering him from view
My grandfather's head down as if sleeping
My grandmother no longer smiling no longer awake
Sadness glued onto my face shown with a sob
My hate for life known by the cold glare of my brother
I sit next to the stone carved with my beloved grandmother's name
I'm not quite alive but not quite dead
That child playing in the dew and fresh cut grass is far from here
For I am gone with the wind not coming back

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