She'd sit there on warm days,
And watch our neighborhood.
Her presence deterred those
Who were up to no good.
She’d greet anyone
Whom she knew by name,
As well as kind strangers that came.
Mrs. Shirley my neighbor’s not there anymore.
I’m facing my first spring without her.
Complaining of dogs
who left poop
on her grass.
Chastising young men’s
Saggy pants
As they pass.
Mrs. Shirley my neighbor’s not there anymore.
My Dear neighbor Shirley died at 84.
This is the first spring without her.
April comes to DC with pink petal parades
As her hydrangeas bud and winter’s chill fades,
Her husband sometimes sits alone near her spot;
Neither neighbor nor nephew or niece has forgot…
Last fall, with her friends and family near,
She told us she knew she had less than a year.
And though she helped us prepare for “goodbye”,
Still, it was hard to keep our eyes dry.
When time becomes short, we always want more.
My dear neighbor Shirley died at 84.
Mrs. Shirley my neighbor’s not there anymore.
This is our first spring without her.
©2017 Cheryl L. Crockett
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