She was the apple
of his eye,
the little house
at the end of
the freeway,
tucked into
a neighborhood
with others of
the same bent,
it was 1957 and
My dad was
buying his first
and only dwelling,
a place he would
fall in love with,
having been on
the road most of
his playboy
gypsy life,
and lucky to
find a home
of his own
with a yard
the size of a
football field,
he took a few
more wives
and added a pool,
a suite for his
first daughter,
skylights and
palm trees,(while
saving the plum
and apricots for
wife number five
to make some jam),
the times changed
and his family grew
while he became
quite the movie
guy and other
secret talents,
lining the
fences outside with
Disney Posters,
dice from Vegas set
into the shallow end
of the splash,
thriving on the
one thing he
could call his
own, never before
and never again,
it was his last
passion, leaving
the remains to
a family who has
now divided itself
into parts that
he would not
recognize or approve,
he would say,
You should be here
now, soaking in
the rays with
a frozen daiquiri,
stop arguing, please,
can’t you see the
beauty of life,
it is so dear to me,
remember my smile
and embrace your
time, for it will
all pass too quickly
and soon you will
be joining me,
wishing for one
more swim,


©J.W.WINSLOW 7/1/13