Oakwood Memories

Freshly stained i sit beside you

A witness to love’s fruition

The myth of unified laughter

 

Desolate nights with half of you

A witness to love’s dismay

high pitches, my marks on the floor 

 

Harmonious turbulence, effortful exhaustion

A witness to love’s ideal

For our new arrival 

 

Sunday morning coffee served, paper read

I uphold you both

legs now sore, body worn, time-stained seat

 

Movers came and we met in the rearview 

Now an older dame

Accompanies this old chair

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Our solitudes empathetic

The silence serene

The brisk air rejuvenating

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Sunday morning, newspaper puzzles 

turbulent toddler trots circle me

playfulness all too familiar