For Uncle Sonny                                                          

Why do we wait until it's too late
to value each minute, each breath that
we take? My words have been said. The
story's been told, yet still I don't
know why we don't value our old.
Although our age, it differed greatly,
seven decades apart, now ten years it's been,
and still as I write, the tears start
to pour. Another day goes by of seeing
you no more. Brother to my grandfather
is all you were. Best friend to a teen
is what you became. Now a parent myself
I have become, but still oh how, my heart
it still aches. Why does it have to be too
late?
Your knowledge, your wisdom, the
laughter we shared, you called me Little
Miss. I wasn't prepared. I didn't even tell
you just how much I cared, so why did I wait? Now it is too late.

class="poembody">Samantha Pon

Copyright ©2007  Samantha  Pon