Milky Eggs

Loosely, I stare 

At the shriveled man before me

I wonder how it is people stay so put together

I smile, softly

He barely moves

So instead, I move

I kiss his cheek, and I hold his hand

 

I remember he taught me how to make scrambeled eggs

With warm milk mixed in with every wistful bite

I remember how he used to pick me up from school

A smoky cigar often accompanying his lips 

Ready to go

And then I remember 

I've always loved the smell of cigars because I've always loved you

 

Why do you look so happy in so much pain?

And yet so 

gone

 

Papa, 

There are so many things to thank you for

But it is this gratefulness that I am most sorrowful 

Happiness, tangled with the striking rays of absence - 

Absence of health,

Absence of youth -

Dribbles down cordially into your grin

Forgive me, 

Forgive me. 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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