Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
bob-bPoems
Last night I saw my mom and dad. We had a lovely chat. Laughing, joking, carrying on... We’re always good at that.   Dad, without his oxygen tank, Had no trouble walking. He spoke of books and politics And had no trouble talking.   Mom dashed about her kitchen Busily preparing Some delectable treat to serve. (I even heard her swearing.)   Such visits happen now and then. Sometimes it even seems As though they’re real and not occurring ONLY in my DREAMS.   Why Mom and Dad are in a dream, I don’t have a clue. But I love to see them; it's The best that I can do.   It’s hard to believe that eighteen years Ago they passed away. It’s strange; it almost seems as though It happened yesterday.   Healthy, strong, invincible, Robust, and never sad, Philosophizing, loving, caring— That’s how I see Dad.   No less loving, but more pensive And never brash or gushy, Mom expresses love through actions. She’s kind, but never mushy.   These dreamy reunions I will cherish Until my memory fades; Or until life decides It's time to pull the shades. - by Bob B
0
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 1:00 PM UTC
Visits with My Folks
Last night I saw my mom and dad. We had a lovely chat. Laughing, joking, carrying on... We’re always good at that.   Dad, without his oxygen tank, Had no trouble walking. He spoke of books and politics And had no trouble talking.   Mom dashed about her kitchen Busily preparing Some delectable treat to serve. (I even heard her swearing.)   Such visits happen now and then. Sometimes it even seems As though they’re real and not occurring ONLY in my DREAMS.   Why Mom and Dad are in a dream, I don’t have a clue. But I love to see them; it's The best that I can do.   It’s hard to believe that eighteen years Ago they passed away. It’s strange; it almost seems as though It happened yesterday.   Healthy, strong, invincible, Robust, and never sad, Philosophizing, loving, caring— That’s how I see Dad.   No less loving, but more pensive And never brash or gushy, Mom expresses love through actions. She’s kind, but never mushy.   These dreamy reunions I will cherish Until my memory fades; Or until life decides It's time to pull the shades. - by Bob B
bob-b
Written by
bob-b
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 1:00 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem