Time

There he sits,

open palms rubbing down his knees

as he waits for her

red lipstick

and pink rouge on her wrinkled cheek

cart creaking through store

someday son,

that will be you - life deep and full

of heart memories

waiting there

for your grandma-wife in nylons

us, but faded ghosts

I wonder

what rivers will etch and carve time

spring up years later

your Papa's

reading Words at breakfast table

tow-head boy listening

or will I

and my freckled hands reach to you

just as I do now

will you draw

from a deep well of years full lived

satiated peace

this man, you,

miracle child of my warm womb

did you live life well

did you love

and laugh at the moon while you farmed

furrows in dark time

I will wait

Papa's hand in mine just around

the corner of time

for you.