remembering Ed

Summers, years ago we used to sit with binocs
out front of the cottage Sundays and comment
on topless beauties passing on gleaming white boats;
God I miss those days when he and I would
sit on our asses, sipping on Labatt’s Blue
there in the dappled sunlight and feeling
like kings and loving the life we had
so much we didn’t even want to cross the river to Dundee.

As I write this in my basement office
snow is piled around the windows
and I know your face is relaxing , cooling
as Nana and your children and their children gather
in the northern town
near another body of water
you have already crossed.

You are in my memory locked, Eddie
watching the water
in the sunshine
under a deep blue sky.


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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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