The Caretaker (#45)

At the graveyard
Where six generations
Of my family rests,
A retired caretaker
Spends every Monday
Tending the flowers
Marking the graves
Fresh enough
For people to care.

Sometimes I watch
Him plod along
Bringing life
To the dead
And it seemed like
A sweet metaphor
For the way you
Nursed me off the edge.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s