Today I told Pa about the feast during lunch,
When all the children felt full and satisfied.

He just moved his eyes away from the window and stared.

His head slowly nodded as I spoke,
Trying to listen when he couldn’t.
I stopped talking and he blinked,
Turning back to the window.

He was looking at Ma and baby Franklin’s grave,
With tears in his eyes.
They used to know how to smile,
But now they know how to grieve.

Pa’s always silent now.
My words don’t seem to help.
Sooner or later, he’s going to disappear,

Moving swiftly with the wind,

Following the dust,

Leaving me to talk to myself