Summer Rental

We toured your beach house today, one you had rented every year,
we learned, for eighteen summers.
Maybe like you, we were pulled here to sight of sea and sand
and garden in between.

We went in with no clue of you but then views of you opened,
scattered first by realtor.
“Lady here was clean as a clam. See, always nicely kept,”
he said and mentioned the eighteen summers.
“Loved looking at sunset. Porch nicely swept. Nights easily slept.
Such nice old lady,” he said.

Something tells me you’re not so old,
now in even a better place than this.
May that be.

You left seeds.
And boogie board.
Realtor didn’t need to mention these.
Were there, amidst smell of sea.
Boogie board under stairs, while on table in cellar,
that’s where we saw your seeds.
Seeds of marigolds, old blossoms crumbling, ready for new life,
spilling themselves just right.

And now, well, we’ve got important things to do.
Come morning, we’ll plant them.
We’ll keep porch properly swept.
And, of course, then with your blessing,
we’ll use the boogie board too.
But first, heaven forbid we forget.
There’s that sunset.

Published by Diversion Press, 2017

 
Written by Joe Bisicchia on 22/05/17
© 2017 Joe Bisicchia

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summer, legacy, life and death

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