Mi abuela walked
down the streets of her childhood:
her memories were made here.
But, there were no elegant mansions,
no beveled windows: even the roses
gone. Children played,
laughter filled with words of cheer.
Some felt that diamonds
and pearls were only available
in a world of wealthy doctors and rich bankers.
In the Woods , they were rich in love.

Eager contained ghosts
of knowing. A diligent grandpa,
hands filled with treats, could not resist spoiling
those children playing in the orchard.
Abuela glanced and ‘round the corner
looking toward her school
with so many good times, black
like the feathers of a crow.
She wondered how many friends
had gone with the Lord
with dreams unmet, how many
rest lifeless- pale and patiently waiting
below the carved marble graves
in Eager’s cemetery .
She visited two,
A husband and a wife,
who so truly loved each other.
She places las floras blancas over their graves.