The memories of you live on

In the dreams of your girls,

Your “little Allaires,”

Those which both,

Mother and daughter have felt,

Have heard and seen.

So now,

At night I can touch you,

Feel your heartbeat

That is not really there.

Sitting on your lap delights me

Because I never got to.

The campsite where my cousins,

Your children,

Have all gone.

We’re sitting around you,

I’m five.

Listening to your stories of heroism,

That you never experienced,

But caught on film,

I can’t make out your words.

They’re bubbling up in my ears.

But, I can tell the words hold true

And with your hand I take to leave

Through the light

Then you go

Whispering, “I wish I could have met you”

And now it feels like I have.