father and mother…
The airport escalator offered a menagerie of
ascending options, but your two faces are the
ones I chose forty-four years ago to usher me
into this world, your faces which are older
now but if given the chance I’d choose again.
The others have no memory of the knife that
slipped and almost took a finger, they know
nothing of a Cocker called Tootsie or a Lhasa
named Lady, the others never had the chance
to hold my children after they chose me like
I chose you back then and then again today.
yes.
What an incredible honoring of your folks. . . a holy glimpse.
You continue to educate. In reading your poems about your parents and daughter I realize the great gift such poems will be to those they are about. They needn’t be long or about grand themes just snippets of a memory.I’m going to give that a try that. Are your parents living so they can appreciate your dear sentiments?
Second I’ve said I’m not a poet but just recalled that my father (now deceased) and aunt both wrote a considerable body of poetry, and having those poems now means a great deal. Maybe it’s in the genes and there’s hope for me yet!
I can’t wait to see mine again. I’m much too old to have expected mine to be here forever, still… my heart is filled with longing after reading such lovely words.