January 2, 2012
You turned sixty today.
The last three years passed to ash
from lavender.
And you were beautiful
in the shade of the pine trees
where we left you.
You always complained that Christmas
ruined your birthday,
sister.
But where are you, really?
Do you have your own house, now?
It snowed here today.
I met a woman, does that surprise you?
You'd like her,
you'd like the way she loves me.
But I understand how gypped you felt.
Fifty-seven times!
But where is that boy
who waited for you to get out of
the bathroom while you put on
your makeup?
I was always a little behind you
but I'm
moving faster now.
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Author's Note
for my sister jeanne
january 2, 1952-august 10, 2008
rip
this one is a piece of juvenilia, proving that maudlin, drippily sentimental dreck can be written at any age. don't care--is best i have, at the moment--
Other stories by Gary Percesepe
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Okay, you got me with this one. Little catch in the back of the throat. Sniff. Sniff. Lovely.
thanks, sally--
Beautiful.
I read the poem before I read the note. Didn´t find it maudlin. *but I´m moving faster now* - yes.
jp & sylvia----grazie mille
Love this voice. Got me in the heart. *
Good piece, Gary. Great form and voice.
kim & sam,
rock on
I like the voice and the sentiment and the worldview: as I perceive it.
Really good poem.
I love those last seven lines. Very personal and moving.
jmc, susan, maren---thank you so much for reading this little poem
Lovely. Loving. *
So very true.