Elisa

By

Bill Boudreau

(A grave in Saint Pair Sur Mer, France)

Elisa, Elisa who are you?

You’re more than a mark on a stone

Your epitaph is simple and innocent

I saw a trace of you in Saint Pair

At eighteen, you closed your eyes

In eighteen hundred and seventy-eight

What fate came to you so young?

Across the ocean, your blood flows

In the veins of my wife and children

Although yours is dry in a grave

In Saint Pair from where the Cottreaus came

On a grave called, “The Cottereau Family”

“Elisa” the only name