A young girl strolls between two white heads
Her vocabulary white, pure, sensible
Between them, a gap as wide as the two generations they are apart
She walks between two heads, tough and bald
Who silently judge her age and nod her past
Her naivety left outside the door with neon lights
She stands in white and lace, between two beloved men
One of her age; and one who was with her through the ages
Now, she stands beside only one, with hands entwined
The woman strokes two tiny heads of young hair; whispy and fair
Her vocabulary young once more
Shortening the gap of years betwixt them
Again she stands between two white heads
Her words are loud, but they are love
As she nurses now the young and the old
She stands, then, between two granite headstones
Her words are hung with tears as the rain on the trees
As her husband waits, standing, between the two bowed teenage heads
