It’s a rare day
when I fail to think of you
in grief your memory still comforts
in faded cotton trailing barefoot
on a path beside railroad tracks
in July’s sere heat
in joy your light shines through
my eyes moonwhite dreams
of romance bursting in a heart
too large for your too-small town
it’s a rare day
when I do not see you standing
by a window one hand cradling
the opposite elbow
in something diaphanous
enjoying the admiration
of your remembered beaux
those darling boys cigarette akimbo
eyes on the distance and yet
in red twirling
laughing as you danced away
In memory of my grandmother, LaVaughn Louise (Edwards) Baker,
shown on the right, next to her twin sister, LaNore.
(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image of Carmel, CA: vtsr/Flickr (CC BY 2.0)
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