DEATH Poem: Papa Tree, by Chloe Kultgen

What remains is
the papa tree—
the one we planted
together from a
pinecone I found
on the ground

no one, but you
believed it would
actually grow

and after you passed
it finally began to
sprout from the earth

a sign that you were
still here
a legacy of us—
something I could
remember you by

What remains is
the collection of
small wooden chairs
we would line
up like a train

the ones we would
place all my
stuffed animals on

I always saved you
a seat in front

you never complained
about how you didn’t
really fit
or about how long I’d
wish to play conductor

instead, you smiled and laughed
allowing my imagination
to travel us around the world

What remains is
the maroon
rocking chair
the one we would
fall asleep in after
a busy day of play

that feeling of safety
that feeling of happiness
that feeling of love

What remains is
the yellow school bus

the one you couldn’t wait
to watch me get off after
a day of school

and I remember
that first day
of kindergarten,
taking the bus,
seeing the house
and realizing you
would not be there
to welcome me home

I remember looking
towards the papa tree,
then towards the window
where I saw my stuffed animals
lined up and waiting
and finally, towards the front door
where the rocking chair was

before I realized
all that remained
was the mere
memory of you