I have gathered the roses, I have tucked the brown bottle in my purse, I have pocketed my mournful verse. Maybe you think love is snapshots glued on acid-free paper, bound in embellished vacation-themed scrapbooks I have put on my life vest, and climbed into the camp boat, facing the wilderness, and motored out into the sunset. I have crossed the still-water and leaned over the frame. I have emptied Into the Great Pond
© Deborah Garcia 2022, All rights reserved
About this poem
Our family has been vacationing the same week in August in the Belgrades, ME, since 1999. “This is the best place on Earth,” my boys always said. One year ago this week, my surviving son and I released some of my son’s ashes in the cove at his favorite fishing spot.