There are no flowers
To mark the place
There is no cross
To remember the day
On a lonely road
Where he breathed his last
Nothing proves he was here
Nothing proves he passed
But there in that spot
The willows grow
Along that country drive
Midst the March fallen snow
Soft grey buds of spring
Emerge to bloom
And for a breath of time removing
The despair, fear and gloom
In a moment I smile
In that place where he died
Because it’s in that place
Where the pussy willows hide
© Ruby Neumann
Poet's Note:
In March of 2017, I found the pussy willows. It was at the accident site where my nephew died. I had been out there in January before the funeral and found a lone pussy willow that I picked and took with me to the funeral. It was my gift to place on the casket. But when I returned in spring, they willows were in full bloom That place became an oasis for me during the year. I would often drive through and be in that place. I have kept the pussy willows from that first year. They are a reminder for me how beauty can rise out of death.
