Usually it’s the flowers that remind him-
grape hyacinths, lily of the valley, forsythia.
He meant to, but too much time had passed.
How awkward it’d be for them to speak now.
At a funeral, she didn’t recognize him, seated
in a corner away from the crying and hugging.
A slide show with self selected soundtrack
playing “it’s so hard to say goodbye to yesterday”.
His wife found it odd when he came home and
told her how his mother hadn’t recognized him.
Must’ve been the white hair, my beard, or all the
years without a single word spoken between us.
They say, even animals know their young
when they see them after years of being apart.
He didn’t blame her and planned to call,
once he found the time to talk about it.
Tomorrow I’ll call her, before the next
funeral, which could be hers, or his, or mine.