-Elizabeth Brewster
It was a long summer, watching my father die,
A cold summer, thoguh, with wind and rain.
"I remember," once he told me,
"The time my father died. I was nine years old.
They couldn't tear me away, I remember.
And I remember playing in the caves
By the sea shore, gathering shells.
I remember your grandmother, after she died, came to me
In a dream and said, "Come, Johnnie, come."
He woke and slept and slept and woke again,
And said "Is it day or night? Why are you going to bed
When it's noon outside? But it's such a dark day now."
"There was a joke I used to tell," he said.
"Maybe it was about Pat or Mike or maybe it was about Sandy and
But now I can't remember. Did I ever tell you that joke?
You would have laughed. I think it was a good one."
"This morning," he said, "I was telling your mother about you.
I thought you had never met before, and I must explain
Just who you were, but then she said she knew you."
"I wish," he said, "I could start all over again,
Have the same time over again, but different.
Only eighty years. I wish I could be young."
And then, "I am so tired, so tired, so tired.
I wish it were over."
Then, "Do you suppose, maybe
A cigarette, or maybe a pill for the pain?"