Waving

When Joyce flew away, she went up and out.
No whimper, no whisper, no crying, no shout.
So quick it did happened, she left no time for goodbyes,
This was her way, why were we surprised?
Our only remembrance was to hiccup and stare ,
at the mountain of letters and the old brown reclining chair.

When Joyce flew away, she did not come back.
‘No way’, she said, ‘I’m done. Bye-bye-that’s that.’
And no matter the calling, the crying, the pleas,
She was gone, just gone- (she always did what she pleased.)

Sometimes when I’m lonely, (which is all of the time),
I imagine she’s back here, and everything is just fine.
And when our visit is over and lunch has been ate,
and the groceries are melting, (it is getting sort-of late),
we pile in the backseat, buckle in, close the door,
and wave and wave to her- til we see her no more.

All over my memory she stands watching us go,
at the screen door of her house, though our leaving is slow,
A tissue is with her, a tiny dog too,
the TV is blasting, she has slippers for shoes.
Mom backs the car up and we all turn around,
We wave out the window but we don’t make a sound,
She waves back as madly-the same silly game,
who knew that without her, the whole thing would change?

And here I am waving, every chance that I get,
up at the stars, at the flowers- so she doesn’t forget,
Though the distance is greater and our next visit unsure,
I’ll keep waving always and always ’til I see her once more.