From my latest book, "Dishpan Hands And Heart", which is available on amazon.
Now
that there’s nothing left of us
On
franklin street
The
place where we gave our all
And
got little back
Except
in the way of grief
No
me
No
you
No
kitties acting as though
We
worked for them
No
bookcases filled with
Media
And
crowned with the history
Of
aviation
No
comfortable couches
That
doubled as twins
No
daily sane breakfasts
And
limited lunch menus
No
more trips to the scooter
For
afternoon escapes
With
sound recordings
No
lack of privacy
No
getting on each others’ nerves
No
being there for each other
When
it was needed most
When
there was no one else interested
In
getting those hands dirty
And
of course I miss it
Like
the sling on a broken arm
You
live with
Never
understanding that
It’s just a temporary thing
It’s just a temporary thing
