I worked in a Funeral Home and at that home, in one of the storage areas we used to store the toys that people left at the graveside for their children. Each of the elements I describe here are some of the toys I remember seeing on one of the shelves together and I remember thinking it looked like a road. So I wrote about it.
This poem is actually a few years old, but I did some edits and decided to run it again:
“Ghost Road “
A baby wrapped in blanket with a box for a crib
a basket of kittens who stopped crying when they heard the wind
a dog with no collar, but he once had been called Finn.
all of them waiting to feel warm again.
Each of them placed with love and care
on this unmarked road under the stairs
reluctantly left where the ghosts of could have been