Parents by Frank Steele

Jump to Comments

 

I felt his death coming for years

the way you can be under

fluorescent lights in a library

with no windows, reading

some bright page, and gradually

feel the sky outside

invisibly cloud over. But I remember

those last few times before his fall

how they would be standing in the driveway

waving goodbye again, how they lit up

for a moment, suddenly not old but just

themselves, his arm around her, cheering us on,

cheering for life itself as we drove away.

0 Comments

Filed under Poetry