Friday, September 4, 2015

At Times Like This

At times like this when
a friend needs me to
share her birthday with . . .
I’m washing my hair.

Else preoccupied
with some other thing
so miss, once again,
a chance to hug her.

At times like this I
lean on Facebook posts
where every photo
reminds me, that could

be my arm in hers—
holding Francie’s leash,
marrying couples,
(burying corpses) . . .

sharing a drink or
a grandchild’s laughter
or some music fest
at Laughing Horse Lodge . . .

in fact, her wedding
a return yearly
to celebrate that

one moment in time
when a twoless twine
illumines the dark
and love whispers, Thine.

At times like this I
miss being there but 
must ooh and aah for 
feeling being . . . here.

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