VITERBO UNIVERSITY | SPRING 2014 | VOLUME 78

TOUCHSTONE

LITERATURE

THE LITTLE THINGS STAY THE LONGEST

Rebecca Wollersheim

I don’t remember
What I wore

That day
Or the hymns

We sang
But you

Weren’t yourself.
Your new stillness

Was strange to me.
The long drive

Is vague
Looking back,

As well as where
We finally stopped

That damp, grey day.
But you were safely tucked in,

Protected.
Me, between my parents, I

Held the flowers, now
Fragile with age

And the tiny rock,
Pale orange, filled with holes

From the upturned earth
Prepared for you.

These things to remember you
When all else leaves me.