Gerard passing through the fence,
the air’s nice and Gerard invites him-
self to look, sees his father’s stone.
A face with vines hangs, no longing
for sight—it’s just there. He was
peaceful with the knowledge.
Gerard walking forth, knows the gliding
warmth of here. Summer isn’t the sun
and its gentle information. But,
A sound reaches him. Gerard is now
old, the sky becomes different
and he can’t find the fence.
Andrew Geary 
Nice! A great story.