I stand as you stood many times before
laboring over dirty dishes in the sink.
As the warm water washes over my hands,
I gaze at the flowers in the window sill
and wonder if you smiled as I smile now,
smelling the sweet Calla lilies brought to you by little hands.
Did you sigh in relief as the dawn bubbles
removed the final crumbs from the pan,
the pan that you used to bake a cake for every year of my life.
Did your mind ever drift away–
as your hands continued their mindless task,
away through the window, down the driveway,
and the lane where we walked to Church together every Sunday.
As I stand in the echo of your memory,
drying the Just Flowers dinner plates
that served your cheese potatoes and other delights for countless family diners,
I wonder that if I complete this same task, touch this same plate
that you touched just a month before,
if I stand on the same tiles worn smooth by your feet,
will it reverse time, just for this moment,
and allow you to be with me once again.