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If I had one more day

We'd wake up early to drink hot, black coffee in the summer heat - 

 because you believe the heat of the coffee will help keep us cool as we...

            walk to the garden, 

                         pull up carrots whole out of the earth

                                                 and pick and eat concord grapes - 

                                                             until we can't eat anymore and then go

sit on the front porch, in those aluminum bouncy chairs,

re-painted and re-painted in

                 bright,

                                cheery,

                                                    colors.

 

I'd look, unapologetic, at your silver, course, curls

and stare into your beautifully tan handsome face - 

and will my straight, dark hair silver

and my skin golden brown - 

                  longing to embody

                                   your glorious, 

                                                shimmering 

                                                            glow.

 

I'd open my ears to catch each syllable and note

of your Welsh tenor voice

and turn up the volume 

to record into my memory:

             "How Great Thou Art",

                             thrilling stories of wild bears

                                    and worlds no one had ever seen. 

Somehow your voice, your song, and your imagination

 - would always bring me back to life.

 

I'd open my mouth wide,

to breathe in all the oxygen of you that I could

to exhale my joy and love for you, 

in a rollicking laugh

               - a twinning sound 

                                that we share,

                                        to this day.

       

You see me, know me and love me. 

We share part of the same soul or mind

 - or something, I still don't have words to explain.

Ceremoniously, as night draws near,

you reach out

                 and gently place into

                        the palms of my

                            expectant hands

 -  too-many-quarters

 and say, 

"Till next time."

                                                          ..."Till the next time."


Poem written in honor of "Grandpap" John Dunn

Copyright August 2020 Tara L. Eastman


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