Piece from the Class Trip

The trees know this place.
Their brothers and sisters rooted next to them.
Twining around soil that lays here from past years.
Breathing in the chilled mornings and fallen pine needles.
Singing silent songs of sadness,
while the ground endures their tears.
Not knowing how many children will
fall upon the ground this day or the next.

Remembering

Sorrow is a quiet attic…
Lightly dusted photo albums containing
Pictures of ones lost,
Sit on the top wooden shelf
Just waiting for someone to remember
The moments captured.
An old Halloween costume in the bottom of the plastic bin
Contained with baby clothes to be passed down to grand children
That never came.
A rusty ‘ol fan weak from being used during
All those late summer nights before
Technology caught up with society.
The white wedding dress delicately sown with
Tiny beads, lays in a box contained with the
Remembrance of the young girl’s day that
He promised
Forever and always…
But ended in regrets and forgets.