January 31, 2026
Transmogrified from handsome, fit, and trim,
to lesser forms of all these traits and worse,
I see an inescapable reverse
of progress, unremitting fall of him
who raised me, once robust and hale of limb.
Two hundred photos track decline as hearse
awaits — a slideshow tribute; folks disperse;
we family watch the coffin sink, then dim.
Not every portrait’s flattering to see.
I ponder on the inner man, as well,
as some of his decisions bore disdain.
Yet broken or intact: this, too, was he.
It takes a gallery, in full, to tell
the tale where love remains to wrestle pain.
Posted in Poetry.