Your Litany
You are the tissue and the handkerchief,
The silent weeps in the large room.
You are the dark corner in the widow’s heart
And the eerie mornings of the lonely child.
You are my grandfather cold and at rest
And his features and legacies through my family tree.
However, you are not the oldest at graduation,
The smiles from my mother,
Or the laughter of my kids.
And you are certainly not the kisses from newlyweds
There is just no way you can be the kisses from newlyweds.
It is possible that you are the pro athlete’s sprained ankle.
Maybe even the black eye from the bullied child
But you are not even close
To being the warm hugs and a mother’s love.
It might interest you to know,
Speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
That I am a twinkle in the engagement ring.
I also happen to be a celebrity’s fame,
The rain boots splashing in shallow puddles,
And the blanket cuddling newborn puppies.
I am also the scholarship to a gifted child in poverty,
And the only picture left of a lost loved one.
But don’t worry; I am not the tissues and the handkerchief
You will always be the tissue and the handkerchief
Not to mention the silent weeps in the large room.
