Day # 314: 2 poems of rememberance

# 314

The Last Floating Embers

Middle schoolers

crowd into

gymnasium bleachers,

blotches of

red, white, blue

mingle with every other color.

The band begins to play.

The chatter ceases,

as a few old men

with Army hats

full of patches and pins,

some pushing walkers,

some pulling oxygen,

step shaky feet

on the shiny hardwood floors.

The crowd erupts

in applause.

As they walk on,

tears spill over my eyes

and down my face.

I try to wipe them away,

hope that no one notices.

I cry not for patriotism.

I cry not for sacrifice.

I cry not for the fallen.

I cry for they remind me

of Grandpa Bill,

whose gentle spirit

remains crisp in my mind,

even after twelve years.

I cry for the purity of heart

and strength of character

unique to their generation.

I cry for stories

soon to flicker out

like the last floating embers

of a once strong flame.

When I was a child,

my father was saddened

when a World War I vet

passed away,

before he could interview him,

leaving his wife alone

in the back pew

on Sunday mornings.

“There aren’t many left,”

my dad told me.

I tell my students

the same today,

that the last of the

greatest generation

won’t be with us

much longer,

and to talk to as many

as they can,

for stories,

like lives,

are precious

.c GRACE

Do you remember eating peanut brittle bought

from the candy store on route 7?  Only

Grandpa went to the

candy store, the one that

made its own

across from Wolfpit Road.

Do you remember the hairbrushes

at Mecca's Pharmacy 

or the embarrassment of buying

birth control foam when

you knew your father might walk in?

Do you remember the sound

of the new dried leaves

fallen on the path to home

as you kicked your feet

forward on the trail, walking

home from the bus stop?

I'd taken a turn so I

didn't have to walk

with the others, embarrassed that

my breathing got heavy

I'd start to sweat and

I didn't want them to know

or tease me.

Do you remember the first time

you tasted a Mexican TV dinner

while we watched, what could 

we watch during dinner? We

would not have watched the news.

And remember the pile of Mystic mints

and the tall glass of milk?