Gone
The flowers are disappearing now
that it’s fall. Soon my property
will be covered with leaves, gone
will be the cheery yellow flowers.
My two grandsons have returned
to their home in Tennessee.
It was a short visit, but a happy one.
I make their beds until next time.
My oldest grandson has scheduled
his wedding for next autumn;
he has been here since he’s eleven.
The time will fly, and he’ll be gone.
I fell in June and broke my hip.
I’m alone most of the time. I’m learning
to walk again, but my phone stopped
ringing with invitations to go anywhere.
Hopefully, in time family and friends
will return, except for my son,
who I lost without warning.
He can’t return like the flowers.
*
Barbara Eknoian’s work has appeared in Pearl, Cadence Collective, Redshift, and Your Daily Poem. Recently, her New & Selected Poems, More Jerkustances, has been published by Editor Eric Morago. She lives in La Mirada, CA, with her daughter, grandson, two dogs, and two cats (one is mild and the other is full of mischief). There’s never a dull moment at her house.
