I gave him something
and I’m glad I did:
some happy memories,
a love of cats and poetry.
I remember talking
in his teens and since:
quiet conversations
about ideas,
and sometimes
of turbulent feelings.
My snowy-haired
clear-eyed child,
fearless climber and diver,
grew to make poems, stories,
computer programs
and lasting friendships.
I rely on him now
for sense, honesty
and understanding;
the most fair-minded of men.
[Poem #40]
This began as a game some bloggers played in 2008, to write about people who'd made an impact, in the same number of words as one's age, every day for a year. I did them less often and went on longer, adding one word each birthday. I stopped in 2016 and incorporated them into my main poetry blog. In 2019 I resumed the project and gave it its own blog again, with a new name, where it may unfold at its own (slow, intermittent) pace. I've labelled these verse portraits, but they're more like quick sketches: mere glimpses, impressions....
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