this old slab

the sidewalk cement has

a few little handprints in it

and a misshapen heart

and some names that are

no longer legible

overhead the oak tree is

still growing, still creaking

and every year that goes by

it provides a little more

shade to the surface below

and there are cracks and

chips in this old slab, and

weeds on the edges, and

an ant hill here or there;

nothing out of the ordinary

maybe their names were

Charlie and Adam and Bella

when the oak tree was smaller

when the heart was drawn perfect

when the cement was still fresh

before the ants and weeds

came pillaging along