I walk in each night
feeling the guilt leak
into the fabric that covers me.
I’ve missed some days
seeing you.
You are there
each time, rolling
back and forth.
The question of who will come
with each push
back and forth.
The chair is pulled
and I sit.
I find my face
in the reflection of
those blue, blue eyes.
We review your day…
Did you go outside?
Are you hungry?
I wish you were hungry.
You seem tired.
Has your wife been by?
There’s a silence that leaks
but it’s never uncomfortable.
You continue your rolling
back and forth.
And each night
I walk in and see
that you’re still there,
it is a delight in which
words that make up
a silly little poem
will never be able to explain.
I recall how you said
You wouldn’t see your 80th
just three months prior.
It is next week.
It is next week
that I get to tell you
“Happy Birthday”
and to see my reflection
in those blue, blue eyes.
and then to see you the next day.
Rolling
back and forth.
breanna lane 