Moonlight glinted in your eyes
Reminiscent of sunlight playing
On tiles of our kitchen nook
Sausage sizzled and eggs fluffed
And yellowed as I scrambled,
While you painted your hands in
Pancake flour, butter scent.
That was morning, half day past
Now there is moon in your eyes,
Bright but flat, missing spark where,
Earlier, your soul lit them
Poet's Notes: This is another one I wrote after my dad's passing. It was written after reminiscing over old times with my mom. Little things like his making breakfast was something she could recount so perfectly, I had to try painting that picture with my words too. I tried to write from her perspective. In the end, its message is that these times are both fleeting and precious and should be treasured.
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