Lost in a Book

Oh, I love to get lost

In a book* I adore,

Where the characters feel

Like I’ve met them before

 

And the subject is one

That is close to my soul

And the writing’s so good

I could swallow it whole

 

For it takes me away

To a different place,

Though there’s so much familiar

For me to embrace.

 

As the pages slip by

I may try to pretend

That the author will never

Give in to an end

 

But, of course, it will stop

And I’m left wanting more,

Hoping pleas for a sequel

Ms. Strout won’t ignore.

 

*(Lucy by the Sea by Elizabeth Strout)

Mailmen

The mailman in the city

Walks the streets with all his mail

And in each apartment lobby

He leaves letters, without fail.

When the buildings tower skyward,

He walks less to do his route,

For with endless boxes waiting

He needs hours to work it out.

In the suburbs or the country,

Mailmen drive from door to door, 

Dropping  bills and correspondence 

And occasionally more.

But no matter their surroundings,

City streets or grassy grounds,

Neither rain nor sleet prevents them 

From completing all their rounds.

Bang!

A classmate brought a gun to school

Back when my son was six.

He showed it to some friends,

Which brought a teacher to the mix.

 

The loaded weapon was removed;

The police, of course, were called.

The news made all the papers

And the parents were appalled.

 

The child was transferred; no one

Ever heard from him again

And fortunately, nobody

Was shot or hurt back then.

 

Yet just this week, another boy,

His mom’s gun in his hand,

Shot his first grade teacher in the chest;

How can we understand?

 

The news reports said no one

Of that age did that before,

But that classmate of my son’s way back

Can only underscore

 

How we’ll never learn that guns in homes

Quite simply don’t belong

And allowing access to a child

Is criminally wrong.

Ins and Outs

This is what life’s all about:

We barrel in and totter out.

 

Along the way, we smile or pout

And try our best to conquer doubt.

 

We may be rebels or devout,

Remain unnoticed or have clout,

 

Yet we survive, in flood or drought,

Our whispers rising to a shout

 

As we fight in our final bout;

Then, like a candle, fizzle out.

My Mother's Book

High on a shelf are some old hard-back books;

Mary Poppins is one on the pile.

An inscription inside, in a neat cursive hand,

Which I recognized, caused me to smile.

 

It belonged to my mom, which she got as a gift

From a teacher in her junior high.

Though it’s faded and worn, I won’t toss it away,

But it’s hard to exactly say why.

 

Such a link to the past is, to me, like a lens

Which allows a brief glimpse of a time

When my mother knew not that a mother she’d be,

Years before from her youth she did climb.

 

So I dusted it off and replaced it up high

On the back of the very same shelf,

A reminder of life when I didn’t exist

And my mom lived her life for herself.

The Coatrack

Down the hall, on holidays,

A coatrack would appear,

Which meant that for some company

Those tenants were in gear.

 

Some folding chairs and tables

Also waited by the door

So when visitors arrived, there would

Be room for many more.

 

As years went by, they didn’t seem

To need those extra seats.

Perhaps they traveled elsewhere

To some kith and kin retreats.

 

But then I heard sad news –

The man in 9F passed away.

For Shiva* calls, a coatrack

Was back in the hall today.

 

We gather for events of joy

Though time will take its toll

And likely someday guests will

Come together to console.

 

*A Jewish ritual of condolence

Urgent Care

Urgent care is where you go

When you’re a little scared

That what you feel might be a thing

For which you’re unprepared.

 

You’d rather not spend hours in

A hospital’s E.R.,

But staying home is stressful

When you’re not quite up to par.

 

So urgent care is something

That is somehow in-between,

For hopefully, by someone trained

You’ll actually be seen.

 

They’ll check you out and send you home

With meds and some advice

To see your doc (or not –

It’s up to you to roll the dice).

 

Before these places did exist,

The hospital was where

Most people went when they believed

They needed urgent care.

 

But nowadays it makes more sense,

Unless you cannot breathe,

To stay out of a hospital,

Where waits may make you seethe.