Dad at 80
My invincible shield
sleeps in the living room,
curled like a leaf,
the way I slept
when I was small.
I tuck blankets around him,
a snug cocoon,
kissing his forehead,
remembering 5am
and the sound of winter.
I wrote this last year, actually, but wasn't ready to post it until now. It's looking like my dad's last weeks, maybe months, so prayers are appreciated. I'm off again tomorrow to go back to NJ. Sorry for the light posting this summer, it's sort of been like this: beauty and sorrow in equal large helpings.
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