Anita was bored, and since she's just about the only reader left, I should probably make her happy. Here's a poem I wrote (and got published, but they didn't pay me) a couple years ago:
There’s a stone at the edge of the graveyard
It isn’t much to see.
There’s a taller one to the left of it
that looks more important to me.
But mom never seems to notice
that its shadow falls on her face
when she kneels on the ground
and touches the name
of the person who rests in this place.
Note: Is it really that hard for programmers to make it so Blogger will accept my cut and paste from Word? These geeks invented phones that can accept credit cards but they can't reconcile formatting differences?