letting go of the past

when the rose bush was dug up
and the trellis torn down
no one cried anymore

nana was buried for years
and her babies scattered

i think it was only me
by the road looking back
that even sighed.

i was not sad for the thorns
or the snaked branches in
the white fence slats

or broken by the history
we let die
with nana's flowers.

nana was buried for years
by then, and my thoughts scattered

I think it was only me
by the road looking back
that realized what had died.