the wind caresses trees in pop’s backyard…leaves flutter and clouds roll grey through an early June comfort….the old man sleeps…he’s finally sleeping…

awake all night in dreams…out of nightmares….ghosts visiting…souls lounging…but…the heart keeps beating….though he wished it would stop…

I’m just tired of it all, dad said…placing Visine in eyes worn out, Tired of everything…she was my everything..

and I hand him a blanket…wrap it over a pot belly…and tell him goodnight…

Let’s leave here tomorrow, he said, Go far…far away….an escape, half in a sleep, Wouldn’t that be nice..
wouldn’t it?….

yes dad…yes it would…

the wind caresses trees in pop’s backyard…