A Father’s Shadow

A son remembers…

There was a time
She’d float beside him
Their footsteps in sync
Their heartbeats in unison

Even at midnight
The neighborhood park imbued their love
With colors and honeysuckle fragrance
Lake’s shimmering moon-mirror
Sending ripples through enjoined hands

But oh the face

She knew not a grimace
Nor any sadness
Her smile
Hope’s subtlety
Passion’s caretaker

Time passed

Clouded skies
Like cataracts of mind
Faded that lovely face
Their fantasy stroll
Became but silhouette

And still…

A bench remained
To sit
Dream
Listen to each other’s breath
While rustling leaves
Drifted away

Seasons passed
Strolls became nurse-like chaperoning
Movement by wheelchair
Breath by oxy-caddy

His bench still stands
Warm to the touch
For a very long time,

My father’s wife always stopped to listen
As memory’s shadow whispers
“May I hold your hand?”