Sometimes I will think about
these days beneath
the golden glow
from one twin lantern on the wall
where you lay passing over.
How at eight thirty in the mornings
when National Public Radio is
airing Writer’s Almanac
sometimes you respond.
Believing that your ears at least
and spirit are yet with you-
I turn the volume higher.....
sometimes because of how you seem
to lift into the medley of
piano and poetic word,
and some times
so that Lillian-
your brave and lovely Lillian
won’t have to hear
my heart sink
when amidst our silent ritual of
assessing where you are
her eyes meet mine a second-
she smiles, of course
and blinks back the sea.