I stare out the window
at all my memories
I see the once beautiful garden
worked hard on by my deceased grandparents...
there's not much left there anymore.
And the rain pours down
on all of those great times shared here.
Their fires, the tree house, the tire swing, the beach.
All these memories,
they stopped happening last year.
For when you passed away,
the family drifted apart,
And we're gathered here today to sell your favorite place in the world.