Staff of Life
How strange life is. It circles round, stands end on end
Distorts the view, then plays the music back again
I remember how he would tiptoe in, from a warm and downy bed
He would wink at me, and beckon me, while the moon and stars peeked in
By kitchen light, we would eat a bite..., a “midnight snack”, he said
He would lift me up, and from the counter top, I'd watch him 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 it helped us both to sleep….
***
While… in my care, his final years…especially at the end
He was fading then, no appetite, few foods that he might try
Soft bread I’d make, with milk poured in, …….and we would talk of then
And through the night the hours stretched, until the morning light
I’d sit upon his bed and talk, and help him spoon a bite to eat
The things in life turn inside out, somehow come back again
_________________________
For the Contest sponsored by Regina Riddle
"Intimate Relationship"
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