on the first day of the month
we flipped all calendars in sight
and one on the sitting room wall
brought but a moment’s flicker
as the floral display exchanged
my dad’s now absent voice replayed
his botanic wit and joy displayed
what then was a random comment
during our regular video calls
but now no longer to be so
in another couple of months
shall mark the first year of his passing
a pinch it was of a fond memory
a punch in the gut of new reality