#27

I look up at the shelf of my journals again today and pulled out the blue one with the words "Celebrate Each New Day" embossed with gold on the cover and opened up to a poem I tried to write eight years ago:



The mint green card is faded,
brown stains, remnants of rubber cement,
"With sympathy and understanding" is written in white script,
the scene on the cover is mock needle point--
apple blossoms framing a stream with a foot bridge--
it's a peaceful image,
twenty years pass as I open the card,
"Those who know you  understand the loss you feel today"
the card begins; words I never paid attention to--
My eyes still search for your words, quickly scribbled, 
illegible really,
"Dear Cathy sorry I didn't make it love forgive me & you have dad's love, sympathy love hope 
your feeling better  love Dad"
and I know you meant every word of it, but
I wanted to hear it,
feel your callused hand in mine, 
smell the comfort of your Old Spice and perspiration,
feel your afternoon beard on my cheek,
smell your cigarette smoke and Tide scented plaid shirt,
feel your arms around me on that wind swept November day; 
I searched for your brown eyes, wanting to look away from that 
white Styrofoam box, pink carnations cascading to the ground. 
Did you not want to say goodbye to the granddaughter who would never be?

catherinenglish 01-27-2013