The Relic of the Grandmother

In the Corner of the back yard
near the chicken coop
a cream-colored, aged Cadillac 
rests, enconsed among the grass.

Despite the rusts here and there,
inside, it appears cozy, with a tan
blanket and a downy pillow, bearing 
the memories of her;

the starry nights and the days
of the flower girl; all too vivid.
now, joking and laughing about 
the relic, with her finace, and the children, 
 the memory will fade; under the heavy air and 
the dust of the time. Now and then, 
it steals her glance; that also will fade
into the once favorite star in the darkness.

©Byung A. Fallgren