Beneath the Tree

This is just a sad poem I wrote this several years ago. I found it going through old things.

Grandma sits and rocks tears free,
While Grandpa rests beneath the tree.
Her hands are wet from wiping her eyes.
Each time it rains heaven cries.
Her finger clutch the medals he won.
She can still hear him saying, "I love you, Hon."
She knows that he's always in her heart,
but can't help thinking of the very start.
His body lies beneath the tree.
His spirit is completely free.
And while Grandma sits and rocks tears free,
Grandpa is resting beneath the tree...