Sunday, May 29, 2016

on being old.

the emphasis was burdened by my
past recollections of the day's events.
we went to a parade.  it was nice out
and the day was long.  papa, oh my papa,
he got into the little boy's wheelchair
and rode around in it until the blonde
mother told him to get out.  she was old,
and i could see the lines around her face
as if her face were cut from oak.  saturday
was a day of remembrance for us,
and i will remember it forever, at least
until i become an old lady, riding around
in wheelchairs until someone tells me to
get out or go home, and then, i will have
grandchildren and they will come and visit me.

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