The man on the radio sings about the winds of change
The sunshine and shadow of trees and tombstones
The flags on this day of memory
The bloody glitter stuck to glue that spells Grandpa
On a styrofoam cross
We stop by the singing tower and walk down the hill
The brightness makes me put my hand over my eyes
We are looking for your mothers mother and father
You come to their graves each year on this day
You carry a jar full of daisies and water
We find the graves beside a huge old tree
With branches that shade your grandparents
It’s roots must cradle their caskets
Two graves one tombstone
The grass and dirt have crept over your grandmother‘s first name
I watch you kneel
And try to rub the dirt from the letters
You pour some of the water from the daisies
And sink your hands into the warm muddy water
And then wipe them on the grass