generations hug

little red-headed boy fighting tears

hobbling grandmother comforts

“Do you know what I like most?”

“Uh-uh,” he sniffles

“Freckles. Isn’t that what they

were teasing you about?”

slow smile in response

“Do you know what I like most?”

“I can’t imagine.”

“Wrinkles.”

to her bedside

he moved quickly with feet

practiced in propelling

his wheelchair

he’d heard his wife’s moaning

growing increasingly agitated

and hurried to her bedside

to comfort and assure her

though she knew him not

--or did she? at that stage

near the end of life, how can

one be sure? if there was a chance

of her knowing his love

he wanted to be there with

gentle words and touch