The Last Window
He looked frail
Touching walls as he walked by
Insisting
That he could put decorative
Molding around a window
In his baby granddaughter’s room
A simple job he said
Could take no more out of him
Than the doctors already did
Wouldn’t go up on a ladder
Like he did all those years
Did it standing
In the afternoon sun
Feet firmly squared on the ground.
My daughter is older now
On her own
Her room changed over the years
Gone is the
Play kitchen set
The cute dolls
The pirate trunk
And all those toys.
Sometimes
In evening
When the air is warm
And the whisper of stillness
Clings everywhere
I look through the window
Which was never changed
I see my daughter
Playing in her room
Hear her loud laughter
Playthings scattered everywhere
I also see the imprint of my father in law’s
Handiwork
Good after all these years
And I remember
How it was
His last job.
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