Stories of World War II, 
Buckwheat pancakes that stick to ribs, 
Shed filled with dusty tobacco air and heat, 
Hope of Spring, seedlings
Rows of soldiers, 
Fallen like harvest time. 
You loved him, I think.

Your hair is thread, 
Mouth wide open, 
Just like your arms, 
And I remember bacon grease and
Mashed potatoes, Edy’s vanilla bean ice cream, 
“Did you get enough to eat?” 
Jars of quarters for toll money.
You spoke with the kindness of flowers,
Never complained.

Worn hands like
Rough green soap, 
Tin laundry baskets in the grass, 
Wool blankets that smelled like fresh rain, 
Rubber bands around slips of paper, 
Noise cancelling headphones. 

You worked all night,
Making sandcastles out of time.