Picnics Past

PicNic Meditatioin

We saw her often
in our dog walks through the park
She was too weak and fallen
to share her comforts

hanging onto what remained
of picnic memories and ant parades
a stone propped up her sunken boards

Today her splintered wooden bones
stand stacked against the tree
that shaded her and I feel sad

The stone remains
a fitting marker for her grave
The gardener must have
taken her apart last night

Who stopped to sit and rest awhile
played picnic on her sturdy back
and wore her down

Beyond weathered from years
she had a story to tell I’ll never hear
now food for the soil
Jean E. Taddonio

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About geniecan

Born and raised in " America's finest City" received BS degree in nursing years ago... main career besides wife and motherhood ( and now a grandma)was as a hospice RN for 18 years...Take great joy in finding the good in all things and believing that " No Thing is Ordinary" the title of my blog. I am working on a children's picture book story named R-Qu.. a rock falls of his mountain. Writing poetry is one of my happiest things to do. Yoga, water aerobics,, gym exercise and walking our wheaton terrior, Finley, with my husband Jim are favorite things...oh yes...singing in the choir at Church and recognizing God as #1... are most important... I also have a home based business with magnetic and far intra red health care products..peace to all who read this, Love, Jeane
This entry was posted in inspirational, musings, poetry, Uncategorized and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

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