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Poetry
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| Shoebox Grave | |
| By bwoz | ||||||||||
| 04 February 2007 | ||||||||||
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Grandmother and grandaughter spending quality time. They surveyed the garden, Emily and Avis To find just the right place to dig A nice spot beneath a big beech tree They knelt in the sweet grassy shade “About two feet deep, that’s all we need With sides long and wide and straight” Their shovels were spoons from the kitchen, The soft earth, a shoebox grave. They dug through sand and soft soil, Cool and moist in the southern air And Emily unearthed a silver ring, Avis wiped it clean, said “Well lookie here!” Then Emily found ten toy army men, A subterranean war waged for years. “Will someone dig up what we burry, Gran’ma?” “Maybe. But old bones are what they’ll find here.”
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