deepundergroundpoetry.com

Seven Years

Seven years. . .
Huh?
Really?
How strange. . .
It's really been that long?
Seven Christmases?
Seven birthdays?
Seven years of memories?
Of stories?
Of fireworks and New Year's Day marathons?
Of wins and losses?
Of stories I've written.
Of my first heart break.
And my father dying.
Grand-dad joined you as well.
As well as your own brother and father.
I fell in love a second time.
And now I have a son.
He's a year and a half now.
I miss you.
My mom does too.
I wish Andrew (my love) got to me you.
As well as my son too.
You would've spoiled him rotten wouldn't you.
I can still imagine you.
Sitting in your chair.
Gray hair matted down in place.
And round smiling face of wrinkles and understanding.
Your glasses making your eyes seem so much bigger.
But you were no wolf in disguise.
Were you Grandma?
It's been seven years since you've been gone.
And I'm starting realize more and more.
That counting the years since a loved one's passed.
It's much easier said than done.