Under Roses
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Grandma fed me bread and grapes
while Grandpa mowed the grass
and pruned the roses over Alice.
There was a baby with a lamb on his,
not a slab of stone like Alice had.
They dressed her like a bride
my grandma said, but she wasn't.
She had polio and died, and died,
and died, but my mother lived,
but everybody dies in time,
and even I would die in time,
would die, would die like Alice
under stone, under roses, under grass.
Karen Tellefsen
kat2@mindspring.com