Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dec 2020
The phone rings and it’s him.

  He’s in Colorado.

  I can’t forget the day he was born.

  It was at noon, and I had a final exam

  that morning.

  It didn’t matter, they held him up for us to see.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “How are you”, I ask.

  “Fine”, he answers.

           He wouldn’t remember that day.
Written by
John Hayes  78/M/Pittsburgh, PA
(78/M/Pittsburgh, PA)   
52
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems