by Roger Howard

I hold your memory

in the glass vase

that once held

my mother's ashes.

I don't think she would mind.

You two were always close.

And besides, she is now

in the columbarium

under the hibiscus tree

covered most days

with Spanish moss.

The weekly maintenance man

makes his rounds,

your memory

overflowing the vase.

I tell him not to bother.

It will just get worse tomorrow.

Roger Howard is a retired surgeon who has relocated to the Clearwater, FL area. He has taken writing classes at The Gotham Writer’s Workshop in New York City and has been writing poetry for 10 years. He is a member of the Safety Harbor Writers and Poets group in Florida. His poems have been published in ODET, a Tampa Bay literary journal, in The Esthetic Apostle and in the periodical The Senior Voice. The poem he continually comes back to for reflection and inspiration is “Ulysses” by Alfred Lord Tennyson.


June 2018

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