I Remember You Well,
by Allen Williams circa 1987

I remember you well,
Aunt Yvonne, with your dark gray hair, slovenly cut,
naturally curled, against your furrowed brow.  Thin
aged face, graven cheek bones supporting large, deep
set, sullen eyes.  Sprung body slightly bent, maneuvering
worn, bony legs with a slight limp, to the door, you gave
welcome with coffee, with cards, with time.  With
Pinochle and Canasta you taught kindness and support
to a thirteen year old boy in desperate need as the
Dodgers played their game, the cards were dealt.

Your coffee-smoke stained grin still scribes my heart
forty years since your passing.  All the times
I cut school to spend the entire day in your presence
with cards keeping score of the games.  All the cool-pool
afternoon swims with the heart-felt warmth of your approving
eyes enveloping me as a shroud.  Though I still see you
in the night shadows, with an illustrious halo,
your warmth is felt no more.

I'm old and my family grew older.  My son never
knew your chuckle echoing the halls.  The silence
you left is so deep, I can hear shadows fall.

Aunt Yvonne, the dodgers have lost and the games
are all over.  Janie and Larry retired in the wake
of numerous hospital stays.  Kathy is married with kids
of her own.  Uncle Bob and Aunt Joan live their lives
alone while Essie recalls the sad day you departed
Alpena, Michigan with still tearful eyes.  The last time
I saw you, I was anxious to go home.  Now I live to
regret those hyperactive actions of a child,
and as a man accept God's plans.

The Dodgers have lost and the games are all over
and this, my Christmas wish for you and I will
someday again, share coffee, cards and all time.