Doctor Grandma

Sometimes I imagine

my brother’s still alive,

he did not die of liver disease,

and he was never homeless,

I imagine him healthy, I imagine him, whole,

being the big brother he wanted to be.

I also imagine

the four of us, friends,

posing for a picture together,

laughing because, we never get it right,

one of us not smiling, or turning our head,

Boy, girl, girl, boy,

16 years from start to end,

We are all getting older now,

We don’t have much time, to lose.

It’s just the 3 of us now,

In the end, we all walk the path, we choose.

cfblack, 3-24-2024

This entry was posted on March 23, 2024 at 11:37 pm and is filed under Family, poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.