The Letters in the Cedar Chest

Now we return, from the burial.

Nearly fifty year's has it been.

He was not the first,
he would remain,
the last.

Nearly 50 years, the covenant,
she then, kept.

Lordy lordy, then how this day.

A  promise, she made.
A promise she kept.

Still the letters,
she kept, from the first one,
in the cedar chest.

Were they dreams,
of an everyday housewife.

To hold to the promise,
while remembering,
the past?

Life was difficult with Daddy.

This I learn now,
as I share the burden,
this day.

This luv we share,
this promise we keep,
then, this day.

So if keeping the letters,
from the first,
help renew, the present,
then who I am to judge,  the choice,
For the strength, it provides.

This day.

On ironing and waiting

Their she waited,
By the back door,
Ironing clothes, to pass the time.

This having something do,
While, she waits.

This young one,
This product, of love.
The gift of the body,
Like the others, too.

How to help him,
Be a man.

With a large brood,
Time with each,
Is hard, to come by.

When he left,
Such words, of anger,
Between us then.

Never coming home, he said.
I am a man, he said.

Does a man, do this to his mother?

Maybe come home,
He will not,
Then this my heart, will be broken.

Still I wait.

As so many others wait,
Their by.

Always the light on,
And a lesson to share,
This then child,
Becomes a man.

To the Generations

I care for my oldest child,

now 

as he cared for me,

then.

I mature, 

He has not.

How to luv, 

and care,

For the one, 

I adore.

this that they, 

may care for me...

When?

*I am my father's legal guardian.