resolved, but hesitant
A two liter bottle
with the top cut of
Balanced in my hand
purple irises fading
But freshly cut
from our garden
Overflow the top
as we pass
Monuments to soldiers
past and perhaps present
To a place where
things are small
Child sized, except
the trees that stand
A scott's pine is the guide
and tall it stands to
Guard its burden
beneath a small stone
I kneel almost bowed
And place my offering
Down wetly and with no grace
And wetly the girl
At my side and I morn
the older brother
She never met
and the son
I knew for too little a time
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