Two years too late, Amanda P Minaker
The last time we talked on the phone
I was distracted.
Sorry about that.
The kids were loud, the day was long, dinner was boiling over.
I can’t remember what we talked about.
It was the last time I ever heard your voice.
The last time I saw you in person
I had company over.
The kids were playing, said only quick “thank you”, you didn’t stay
long.
I wish I had made you stay for dinner.
It was the last time I ever got a hug.
I hope wherever you were at your funeral,
You heard all of the people say nice things.
They never seemed to say those things while you were alive.
I hope wherever you were at your funeral,
You did not see me, unable to speak.
But I told you I loved you on the phone.
I said thank you and hugged you that day in January.
And there was no way I was ready to say goodbye.
So I write this poem for you.
It is not enough.
There is no grave to leave it.
I am two years too late for the funeral speech.
I have no regrets.
