Glints
I look out at my parents’ patio, pained
by the presence of
the absence of
my dad, the gaps
in his smile when aged, glints
of gold filling.
I don’t see him especially
in the “new” cushions (now old
no matter how saved when not in use) and in
the even older cushions now used mainly
by geckos–
where he once lifted thinning limbs
in time to a music that was also old then,
beloved tunes I have to work to catch
in a flash in the brain pan, glints
of gold
filling–
*********************************
Very drafty Instapoetry for Bjorn Rudberg’s prompt on With Real Toads to write a poem what one sees out a window in less than 100 words. I am visiting Florida right now, so wrote of that.
This poem is also some consecutive number for April, National Poetry Month. Photo is mine and basis of poem. I am quite worn out at the moment, and may be late returning comments.
I thank all for their support and inspiration in this month of poetry.
ManicDDaily 
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