first touch of lips together lingering and soft
the rustle of prom taffeta when it was crisp and I felt new
diligent practicing of an assigned piano piece I hated
waiting for a reply that finally arrived and answered no,
solo down our wedding aisle, stopping, kissing Mom’s cheek

feeding our son and daughter in their high chairs, giggling with them
teaching, adoring classes
making breakfasts, making lunches, making dinners
monitoring grades reviewing homework
listening carefully explaining more

together with my best-friend husband
trying to encourage lives of conscience in our children
loving travel loving music…loving…
romping with our grandsons as if I were five,
writing like my family, my soul

and all the while missing
my so much more than merely-missing father–
my forever mainstay, gleaming granite,
inspiration and soft-eyed smile,
taken so unfairly young–

and wondering repeatedly

how much of our sweet time is left