Sestina
I look at your tombstone
And wonder if you
Can hear your grandchild,
Who you barely knew?
The family reminisces about you with love,
But I don’t remember.
The beauty of you is what they remember.
All I have of you is the name on the tombstone.
The way my family speaks of you proves their love.
They always say I would have loved to be near you.
My family each tell of different versions of the you they knew.
Would you have enjoyed spending time with the storyless grandchild?
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