Those you love-
don’t always hear you,
They sit before you,
their eyes a broken windshield,
Some of the paint appears shiny;
their hair is lustrous
their tears still wet,
but their emotions are jumbled
like a rubber neck at the scene of an accident
the life that once was somehow in limbo
between beautiful and pitiful
“Breaker, Breaker 1-9, you got your ears on?
I hear the Beatles, Imagine….
the Radio still pipes excited voices
from the crumbled wreckage
my little girl hand reaches out
never fearful, like you taught me.
I cannot reach you, but am comforted
by the music, which reminds me of Christmas
the Beatles A-Z ,
What a gift it was knowing you,
when you were you.