[Just a final note written,
till I return. ]
~~Here's a poem I wrote, a while back.
It's a poem about my mom's first home. Today, the second year of her passing is past:
**
The Blue House on Sherman Street
My father was talking tonight
About the Blue House on Sherman Street,
“Where Mom & I lived, with her folks,
After we got married…”
It was up the road, from the Lake,
And I remember being there as a child;
Visits, long after they’d found an apartment,
And, settled into a house,
And, had three kids:
One of which,
Was me.
How it is,
Houses
Stay with you,
As you carry them forward,
Tentatively, like those newly married,
~~If only, re-living~~
Or, basking in Sunlight, on a Summer’s Day.
I’ve given an ear to my Pop tonight,
And, among his Stories, I heard:
The closing of another Chapter…The memory, flying backwards…
Only, for a moment,
We were happy there~~
Paired together~~in our remembrances,
Of that Blue House on Sherman Street,
Where the
Beginnings of an end,
Are Cherished.
**
[Take care. I shall see you all again, asap.]
xx,Will.
