It was a picnic, all of us were there,
my grandparents as well, even he who died
years before my birth, so my mother cried a bit.
The others, unaware, had fun and drank
and laughed; the bread was shared, they sang.
I looked my grandad in the eye, he didn’t see
me standing there. My cousins chased the butterflies
and there was sunlight in their hair. We had red lemonade,
and an uncle did some tricks with cards.
We ran and danced. It was a lovely day.