Updated: Jul 2, 2020
Maybe one day
When it’s all said and done
And you’re old with your wife, and your (our) grandkids
Maybe one crisp morning, having coffee together with her
when the years have came and gone
And you’re wearing your slippers, and your pajamas
Maybe when hobbies replace jobs
When the stress of finances is a memory
And you’re looking at the trees out of your kitchen window and your thoughts wander
you will recall the apricot tree I painted for you
You will remember the jasmine we tried so desperately to grow in your (our) backyard
You will think of the smile of acknowledgment of a joke only we knew in our sons cafeteria
You will think of standing on the chair in the hospital to take the clock off the wall because the ticking drove me crazy, how I laughed despite the pain
You will remember the thanksgiving of me begging you please don’t do this
Please don’t leave me
Please don’t take away our family
You will think of Chicago and talking so much we forgot to get gas
Laying on the couch while my tears fell like water, because I loved you so much that this lifetime was not enough time together
But maybe not.
these things burned in my mind, will die when I do.
I hope you look out your kitchen window with your wife, and your coffee, and I hope you think of nothing but the beauty you see, and the love you feel.
And that I’m just dust blowing by, unseeable, unmemorable.