To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
Click Here To add this poem to your "Voting Possibilities" list!
On the Death of Aunt Hanna
Slowly falls the setting sun On fields I used to know, And softly call the memories And dreams of long ago. Dreams of long ago my friend, When you and I were young, And knew not life moves ever onward Toward the setting sun. Yet all who have now gone before To pass beyond that once far door, Live on in memories and dreams As they have lived before. My father walks there yet today, A fly rod in his hand, And chips are flying from the lathe Where your father used to stand. My mother’s bright blue sparkling eyes Still burn with impish light, And cookies from your mother’s fire Still whet my appetite. All this belies the charge you made, That caused such agitation, Each time I close my eyes I see The “OLDER GENERATION!”
One winter day in 1997 I received a call from my cousin Clarice. She informed me of the death of her mother three weeks shy of her 100th birthday. She asked me "You know what this means don't you." I answered no and she informed me that we were now the "Older Generation" as Hanna was the last of our family in her generation. This poem was my response.
Sorry, there are no critiques for this poem in our system... If the poem is older, the critiques have been purged!
Click HERE to return to ThePoeticLink.com Database Page!