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.
6 comments:
How nice. Words to think about, to muse ( in Dutch mijmeren - I'am to sure muse is the right english word for it) and to read it again and again. Thanks.
and who knew you were a poet too? :) absolutely beautiful.
Beautiful, Hannah! What a treasured keep-sake to pass on to your handsome sons.
beautiful!
Thank you...
How very lovely.
Beautiful and touching, Hannah.
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