My Father and the Staff of Life

` How strangely life will turn around, reverse, then come again I remember how he would tiptoe in, from a warm and downy bed He’d wink at me, then beckon me, while twinkling stars peeked in In kitchen light, a bite to eat, a midnight snack, he said I would pour the milk, and he would smile, then carefully tear the bread The staff of life, a simple thing, these two small bowls of wheat My Dad and I, the broken bread, with milk on top, or cream instead A bit of sugar or honey dripped, to make it slightly sweet Such a little thing, so comforting, and helped us both to sleep And in my care, his dwindling years…especially at the end He was fading then, no appetite, few foods that he could eat Soft bread I’d make, with milk poured in, would help us think of then I’d sit upon his bed and talk, and help him spoon some in The things in life turn inside out, somehow come back again ------------------------------------------------------------- For the Contest: Sponsored By Regina Riddle "Intimate Relationships"