January 17, 2009 | 2 Comments Audio clip: Adobe Flash Player (version 9 or above) is required to play this audio clip. Download the latest version here. You also need to have JavaScript enabled in your browser. Today we go to Cassie’s Park we go to lay the wefted sheet; the Christmas love her parents give. Today she runs amongst our minds and plays upon the hill the little girl in guarded hearts who lives amongst us still. She never had her running start a wisp of here and gone. Denied her chance to make mistakes, a brief but shining light. In Cassie’s Park, we stoop and brush the autumn leaves and twigs and shed a tear, we brush from cheeks all reddened from the cold. In Cassie’s Park, in Cassie’s Park there’s a hundred years of love. Of folks who came and stayed a while and left us names in stone. The builders of our country, the merchants of our youth, the moms and dads and kith and kin; we let all our loved ones in. But tiny tiny, amongst the trees is one be-jewelled corner where Cassie lays for all our days still loved and not forgotten. So when your Christmas bird is cooked and laid upon your table, please raise a glass and toast the past that graces Cassie’s Park. Share on Facebook
Ian, Very nice. It made Mrs. B cry, but that’s OK. She believes that Cassie is her own guardian angel. Mrs. B and I been to the park many times, including that first cold, cloudy day. On my visits, I also always take the time to visit a young lad laid there – also taken too soon – and leave a flower or a toy to show that he is rembered.
Ian, your poem “Sock Puppet” reminded me to have another read of “Cassie’s Park,” which I religiously do every January. I still remember that cold January day when we put her to rest. Judy and I miss being able to travel to make our annual trip to Voss-Mohr Cemetery to say hello to Cassie and leave a little remembrance to show that we will always care. I also regret not being able to leave a little something to remember the young boy buried just west of her whose grave seems to be so neglected.