Dawn

A Savored Memory

One early August morning, 

the summer of John’s death, 

in that sleepy state of half awake, 

I caught a glimpse of him 

neatly dressed for the day, 

walking around the end of our bed, 

over to my side.  

The vision quickly vanished.

yet remains engraved  -

a gift that brought to mind 

an early morning moment captured

many years ago in this small poem:

 ~~ DAWN ~~

Up at dawn 

he gently tucked her with the sheet

and fixed it where the mattress corner

had come undone above her head

then slipping out

went down to put the coffee on

He did not know

that in her semi conscious morning sleep

she was aware

and felt the precious oil of his love

flow through her veins

 a secret blessing

JoMae
7/29/88