A Poem
July 9, 2004
For a Friend Widowed Young, Bringing the News to his Children
Nothing, I’m sure, prepared you
for this moment.
Not that brilliant fall afternoon
you collected my long clearing pass.
Your legs churning, blonde hair
flashing over the green.
Nor that warm summer night we picked up
the two prettiest girls in town.
I have this picture of you—
young, handsome, reverent—
candle in hand—
tending to some school ceremony.
And another, more wistful, displaying
some carefully wrought
drawing for the camera.
You had it all,
and I was thrilled you were my friend.
As you walk now into your quiet house
to greet your daughters,
how much I want all your gifts
to come together in this fragile moment.
For their little faces to look up at you
and hear some perfect words come from your mouth.
— Bill Trippe
Posted by Bill Trippe at July 9, 2004 11:49 PM
