For anyone who is interested, Baby Anne was a small person who lived up my street when I was a child. She was very sweet and slightly hunched and had a very high-toned and aged voice. Yet she had a smile and a way about her that fascinated me as a six year old. Being the same size as an adult was also intriguing to me.

Baby Anne was kind to me too, because each time we met, I with my aunt, she on her own, she would give me 10 pence. Back in the early '70s, 10p was a lot - the price of crisps, or a comic, or a bar of chocolate. And each time, she would remind me to pray for her when she's gone.

It's not as morbid as it seems. In the holy Catholic Ireland of the time, such a request was common and more than acceptable.

She died in 1974.

I remember.

Tonight is the anniversary of the death of someone very dear to me. When I visited the graveyard I walked over to Baby Anne's quiet and untouched grave and said the little prayer that she asked of me. I smiled and thought to myself she would be so delighted to think that thirty years or more after her passing, I was still visiting her and thinking about her.

And as I thought this, the black marble grave markers that are common here started to shine in reflected sunlight and I turned around to the west.

The sun had set and its last rays were lighting the underside of the clouds, making them glow in a bright, warm orange. I stood beside the grave looking at the lovely sky. I really like sunsets. I shared the time with my thoughts of my benefactor of old and it was a very special feeling. After five minutes, I walked away. The light on the cloud faded rapidly and the sky went blue and violet and mauve.

Somewhere I hope Baby Anne is in her heaven and smiles when she realises a grown up child still remembers her with love.

This was very nicely written hun... made me rather teary eyed. That is also the era I am from... 10 P for you - 10 cents for me. It bought a lot. I had a similar experiance when visiting my grandmother's and mother's grave a few years back. Though it was a frightfully rainy day, the entire time I was in the cemetary the sun shone brightly and it was a wonderful day.

V.

It's that kind of moment that sticks in your mind forever, Vixyy ... that's a special experience.
Hug.

Tabor churrs very softly, "I don't know what to say except I'm touched. Both by the piece and your description of how it came to be written." Then the bunny gives you a gentle nuzzle and churrs, "Thanks for sharing."

It's a bit morbid, but it was nicely emotional to do. It can be pleasing to let feelings sweep over you now and again.
Appreciate your kind words, Tabor. <hug>

Great poem, I particularly like the second half, but it's really organic in that it stands up like a whole. I'm glad you commented on my picture, so I could get to see some of your poetry. : )

You're very kind too, Shade. I'm glad you enjoyed, and I'm very pleased with your pic.
:)

I don't find praying at one's time of passing to be morbid at all.

I can't say more, except that it is profound. It also personally touched me, because it reminded me a couple of older people in my life.

Cute. Sweet. Nice way to remember a person. Nice poem.