T’was only a year or so ago… in Ruckersville,
I remember the way your eyes lit up…still,
You walked with us through the forests deep,
And kept your stride o’er hills so steep.
Searching, wishing…those places to find,
Hidden amongst the giant Oak and Pine.
Your life approached the century mark,
You paused only to listen to the Meadowlark.
Somewhere buried nearby you knew,
Were the remains of a precious few.
The ones to whom we owe so much in life,
Who lived their days in toil and strife.
The wheat field ahead we had to cross,
To a grassy knoll shaded by moss.
William Haley…one of the few we visited that day,
We looked in awe at the place where he lay.
Back down the hill…you kept the pace,
We found Thomas Adams…near some Queen Anne’s Lace.
Your perseverance was to be admired,
Your knowledge of life kept us inspired.
The dirt road with ruts, rocks and tracks of Deer,
Where the Magnolia still blooms…was getting near,
This was the place you wanted to be,
Surrounded by two-century old cedar trees.
The Cleveland land still holds it’s own,
They are there…craved in stone,
The names and dates their stories tell,
The life they lived…you knew it well.
So we had caught up with the past that day,
At that Hallowed Place…where children used to play.
Fred Cleveland, you had taught us much,
With your loving heart and tender touch.
Our Ancestors…so true and brave,
Thanks to you we have marked their grave.
By Grace Lee Smith Green ?
For my dear cousin, Fred Cleveland, 91 years old.
Terminally ill with cancer.
July 5, 1999
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