By Rose Dempsey

Sometimes your memory just comes to mind

and I wonder how you’d be

if you’d been given a chance to live

to be a man of twenty three.

Maybe you’d be married

have a son to call your own,

drive a truck, maybe fly a plane

and we’d chat on the phone.

And you’d tell me all your good times,

I’d commiserate with the bad,

give you a shoulder to lean on,

and listen when you felt sad.

But this is all wishful thinking

as I’ll never again see you smile,

only in the pictures

I look at once in a while.

Three years ago you left us,

in fact it’s almost four,

sometimes I really miss you

and others, I miss you more.

About the Author: Rose Dempsey has been writing poetry most of her life and has been published in various anthologies, Poetry Now magazine, church bulletins and newspapers. She lives in SC with her husband and a menagerie of goats, chickens, cats, dogs, guinea fowl and a house full of foster kittens

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