Playmate
Looking out
Of our upper room window
Over looking the garage
Where my old court stand still, with
Its ring attached to the cemented wall
I see my dearest son, five years old
Playing basket by himself
Dribbling the ball
Zigzagging, against the unseen opponent
Then he jumped, releasing
A long range shot
And the ball landed into the net. Shoot, three points
So happy to see him, playing
Thou, as he walks to recover the ball, to do it again
I can feel his breath
Heavy and discontented, touching my heart
That made me whisper to the wind
Don’t worry, son
Dad’s rushing enough to give you happiness
I promise you
You’ll have your own playmate
Your beautiful mom is now one month late
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