For my father

It feels so strange to think

That the lost time I saw you,

My son was on the brink of 2.

And 2 years later,

My daughter came into the world.

I had no doubt that she had already met you

And that the last place she slept

Before coming into this world

Was in your arms,

In your world.

Today the trees are in bloom,

The leaves of the maple

Are young still

And hang on trees

Like sleepy butterflies in their glossy purple skin.

Everything seems to have awaken.

The pink azaleas seem giddy as their silky petals gently sway in the warm wind.

Ella is packing her soft leather ballet shoes

In her black tote,

Pinning her golden hair into a ballerina bun.

Ross is on his way home,

With the sun shining in his sky blue eyes.

His hair is still the same colour as it was

When you last saw him.

Strawberry blond.

And his lashes

White and long

Like drops of sunlight.

Today is your birthday.

Today as I think of your grandchildren

And catch a glimpse of a Robin briefly landing

On the pale green leaves

Of the red limbed dogwood

I remember your birthday. By j. Hamilton


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