My friend was 97,
looking forward to 98.
She had all her faculties,
she was doing great.
We talked last Tuesday,
when I gave her a book to read.
Asked her how she was doing,
was there anything she might need?
She said she was fine,
and was going to watch the news.
She had dinner cooking on the stove,
she seemed okay, I had no clues.
But my wife always knew,
when Santa was up and about.
They had a secret code,
which left no doubt.
When the shades were open,
she knew Santa was okay.
But the shades weren’t open,
on that very Wednesday.
It makes me think how life is short,
and I’ve held bitterness towards my brothers.
I never want to be like that again,
I want to be at peace with others.
Santa called me her eldest son,
and worried about Gale & I, always on the run.
She always asked when we would stop,
or when we’d finally be done.
I’ve learned how precious friendship is,
and each day to end with a good-bye.
I know the day will finally come,
when I’ll take time to sit and cry.