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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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