Few Memories

You always sat in one of the two armchairs,

facing windows that gave view to the street.

Did you have the Bible on the end table,

between the two seats?

This is one of my few memories of you.

I don't remember visiting you in the hospital.

I don't remember sitting on your knee.

I remember the black and white photo with you in Navy dress.

I remember the cemetery,

surrounded by northeastern trees.

I remember the black granite headstone.

How I wish to place colorful flowers there.

I remember the black coffin,

draped in American red, white, and blue.

These are my other few memories of you.