My grandniece graduates
In the morning when you got dressed
you adorned your gown with photo buttons
remembering those deceased:
your dad still holding you dearly,
your grandfather holding your aunt,
giving honor the way you did as a child
when you would play your violin
and tap dance for them.
You stride across the stage
in your black high heels you call
my democracy shoes.
As your name Chatham Rose
echoes like a rippling tide,
tears trickle down my cheeks.
Memories flash for you:
how you believed in the dressed up
Easter Bunny, how you still hear
Santa’s Song, You better watch out,
how you joked with Uncle Ted
and played with cousin Sarah.
Under the black cap, your red hair
flows and you walk with ease.
Your gown enhanced: royal blue sash
for President of the Clas
which I knew, but then the surprise:
the gold ropes, Magna cum Laude,
the tent, now loud with applause.
Sharon A Foley
Chatham Rose McCloskey