For Mandi, Who Loves Tennis

I taught tennis in high school Mandi was my nine-year old pupil An angel, a friend. One morning Running to the school bus Mandi waived to her father And was run over by a car He gathered her limbs from the street She was gathered into his heart And the chest remains locked to this day ... life transpires ... When I wake in heaven Mandi is always sitting beside My redeemed hospital bed Framed by a huge window With curtains open to Rivendell Knitting as though she were An industrious grandmother Or an energetic, radiant coed Stringing our racquets