A Grave Image

By Grace Healey

The stone cherub in the garden is
An existentially petrified emblem of youth.
I remember the day we found it
Storm sodden,
Driftwood imposter in the sand of a far away beach.
Angel child doomed to drive home and sleep on top of my
Chocolate lab.
I’ve been growing up my whole life and it’s odd because it feels like stages but I know seconds
don’t hold hands as they walk away from you.
I lost the little girl I should have been at fifteen,
but I still feel pieces of her sometimes,
when I go out and water the garden.