Visits with My Folks

Last night I saw my mom and dad.

We had a lovely chat.

Laughing, joking, carrying on...

We’re always good at that.

 

Dad, without his oxygen tank,

Had no trouble walking.

He spoke of books and politics

And had no trouble talking.

 

Mom dashed about her kitchen

Busily preparing

Some delectable treat to serve.

(I even heard her swearing.)

 

Such visits happen now and then.

Sometimes it even seems

As though they’re real and not occurring

Only in my DREAMS.

 

Why Mom and Dad are in a dream,

I don’t have a clue.

But I love to see them; it's

The best that I can do.

 

It’s hard to believe that sixteen years

Ago they passed away.

It’s strange: it almost seems as though

It happened yesterday.

 

Healthy, strong, invincible,

Robust, and never sad,

Philosophizing, loving, caring--

That’s how I see my dad.

 

No less loving, but more pensive

And never brash or gushy,

Mom expresses love through actions.

She’s kind, but never mushy.

 

These dreamy reunions I will cherish

Until my memory fades;

Or until life decides

It's time to pull the shades.

(8-19-14)