Moments Already Past
Let me hold my granddaughter’s
hand, follow her eyes as she considers
her domain, fresh with fairy dresses,
dancing shoes, princess songs
and tea for two.
Let me open to my grandson’s race – spin
around the room, kick his ball to the moon,
bang the piano keys to his own tune.
Let me hold the wonder in his parent’s eyes
as foreshadow of all truths.
Let my aged uncle’s final salute –
the gentle nod of his head,
palms to his heart, the slow reach
toward mine, his eyes a pledge
that says it was all worthwhile
and then quietly die –
a magical good bye,
his skeletal frame
merely the shedding
of a caterpillar’s husk.
Let me hold these moments true
Even as I struggle with zoom connections,
to keep those that are far, still close
and worry my dry hands with
over-washing in these corona times.
Let whatever comes, come.
Let me see it, taste it, open
It to my nostril’s flare, breath
It deep, then lightly release
it to moments already past.