By Elizabeth Janczyk
Long nightdress, loosely hung.
Soft red flannel, slept in and worn out.
Floating over tired bare feet,
puttering across the cool kitchen tiles.
Patio lounger with reheated black coffee,
and Sunday’s paper, scattered.
Morning sun warms plaid fabric sleeves
against aging, freckled skin.
The same faded sleeves I clung to
After a bad dream
rocking me back to sleep.
A tan hand shades squinting eyes…
The same beautiful hand I admired,
While tracing a gold band on her delicate fingers,
or held crossing the street.
Your looking up now, spotting birds to log
scattered clouds and the seasons changing.
