Sunday Evening Call

I make my Sunday evening call

to my mother,

being the dutiful son

and each week we talk

about the same thing,

how time goes by

not just goes by

but flys

in the blink of an eye.

She reminisces about dad

now ten years gone

about a marriage 

that would have been diamond

had he not left our world

but now all she has are memories

as she stares down her waning years

so I just listen to her

talk about dad and her,

about missing her great-grandkids

wishing we could live closer,

and as she rambles on

I wonder how I will be

when I reach that age

wondering the same,

as time flys by

leaving me only with memories

fading in the evening light.


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