She phoned from work,
quiet office voice,

“Hey, Pops, lunch today?
I’ve got thirty minutes.
Taco Bell okay?”

We met at twelve,
talked about her work,
her kids, my back.

Neither of us mentioned
today’s wedding anniversary,
would have been the sixty-ninth.

We did not speak of her mother,
who was in my daughter’s eyes,
and whose hand may have
softly brushed my shoulder.
Gus Daum


About degus221

A Kansan who has migrated to Oregon.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

7 Responses to AUGUST ELEVENTH

  1. LINDA SANCHEZ says:

    Nice. I never know if it is okay to say anything. I wanted to celebrate your anniversary and her birthday. But was afraid to mention. Love you dad. Love mom.

    Linda Let there be Peace 🌈



  2. davinew says:

    Gus, thanks; poem indeed reflects a heavy heart, underlined with grace and gratitude and a sense of peace


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