At three years old,
her parents took her to the boardwalk,
she danced and twirled,
in a bright, yellow sundress.
At seven, she came to the boardwalk,
her parents and younger siblings with her,
she chased her sister and brother,
weaving among their smiling parents.
At twelve she came with her friends,
but did not stay very long,
only a few minutes
and then headed off to the mall.
At eighteen, her graduation party
was held there,
and at twenty-five, her wedding was
held there too.
She brought her children there,
to the very same boardwalk,
until they eventually grew up,
moved away and started families of their own.
At seventy-seven, her and her husband,
went to the boardwalk,
the sun shone on the lake, twinkling,
she didn't know that would be the last time they'd go together.
At eighty-two, she came all alone,
feeling nostalgic,
needing to remember old times,
she saw the dancing girl,
the playing girl,
the annoyed pre-teen,
the young woman celebrating graduation,
the woman in a bridal gown,
the smiling mother,
the lonesome old woman.
A year later, her ashes were scattered out,
into the shimmering water,
her children, grandchildren, mourned,
a baby, a great-grandchild cried, breaking the silence,
that same boardwalk that she had known for eighty years,
now her final resting place.
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