When I Wish

Mon, 09/21/2020 - 02:45 -- 2003Oak

When I wish I could hear you,

Through that rough and tired old voice,

And when I wish that you could still tell me stories,

About the Baseball that you threw with your brother,

That fell into a gutter as if it were a void,

And when I wish that I could hold,

The old hands that used to hold me,

And when I wish that I could see you,

The old face that I can remember

With creases on your face like small canyons,

And when I wish,

When I wish,

When I wish that you were still here.

This poem is about: 
My family


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