The first and the last

Today hangs heavy
bitterly cold through
sun’s determination
piercing cirrus altostratus stratocumulus
to touch the ground
wrapping tightly round
its center to
stave off or embrace
life
as a robin sings its world
into being
It is every day for every one
a day of spring and passing
by as any other
but for me
it is a day gasping for
remembrance
struggling to overcome
the last image of the stars
falling from my sky
the toy blocks crumbling
the white hat mowing yard
disappearing
the blue hat with fuzzy ball
yelling as my skis race
towards the finish line
melting
the long drives to nowhere
leading no where more
sand dunes lightening
river waves dusting
steep 4-wheel drive
bronco-ing up tin-cups
clattering to fade
old stones of old graves
flint arrows and poker runs
friday night lottery tickets
all lingering mistily at the edge
past gates and duplexes
past victorian water pumps
and humming bird nests
it whispers past S’s and
up through Springs
and then it comes
faint and steady
over rocky mountains
and oil fields of wheat
past Chevrolet’s in crumbling
driveways
and naked rooms way to clean
past blood and bone
and monitoring machines
past too warm hands
that held soft balls, hammers
used skis waxing and horse vice
chatterings
it circles round my head
like a worn out angel’s ring
almost to tired to speak
through plastic air flows
and groggy medicated notions
of awareness
up from lungs so large as to
fill a room with laughter
over lips filled with kisses
that now kiss no more
I hear you say
‘I love you too’ and
in that moment two days strike as
the only ones that matter

The day you said I love you first
and the day you said it last

I was there for both.

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2 thoughts on “The first and the last”

    1. Thank you. You know those moments when your heart feels like it is going to burst and your pen can barely write fast enough to record the rush of words being spoken? Such was this one.

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