as i turned

not wanting to see

you were gone

& i knew you went

because the grey parted

as if

to let you in

and the sun filtered thru

for an instant

like you were saying

good-bye



there was no stone,

& i hadn't gone back

just passed

monotonous rows

& ghosts of christmas flowers

in the snow

& wondered why

i couldn't tell which one was yours

& Kayla asked

"where's Richie?"

& what could we say,

she's only 3



now i stand

& real grass is growing

where the plastic fuzz

had covered

fresh dirt;

i can read the stone

but it's the same

just like all the others

but you weren't the same

& as the sun peeks thru the bleakness

i wonder

where's Richie?"

& what can you say,

i'm only 16.