for Mom and Dad,
one here, one always in our hearts

Of course, I wasn’t there,
but I see them in the photo—
her, slim, dark-haired and lovely
in her sleeveless tea dress

with the floral lace over
the foofy skirt, as her eventual
daughters would come to call
the fullness of petticoat,

and him, slim, blond,
handsome in a dark suit
and perfectly tied tie that
perhaps she helped him choose.

After vows and cake cutting
and kisses bestowed upon beaming,
smooth-cheeked relatives, I hope
they danced, his hand

on her waist, one of her hands
in his, to some romantic song,
gazing into each other’s eyes
with longing, perhaps imagining

the promise of what was to come—
not that night or the next or the next,
but gliding to music that would
carry them far into the future,

making a life together,
making children together,
unaware of what was coming
toward them, what they were

heading into. I want them to have
had the sweetness of a moment
of possibility, overflowing with hope,
with the promises they’d just made

bursting in their tender hearts.

About janishaag

Writer, writing coach, editor
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