And eleven of his children.
Three died of diphtheria
In a single month,
Others of consumption,
Influenza, war.
His sole remaining child
Kept him in her home,
Tending him
As he had tended her.
He’d known the joy
Of twelve babies,
Twelve to hold
And dream about.
Memories of dreams
When you were young
Give you solace
When you’re old,
When you’re alone;
Or so I need to hope.
©2018 John I. Blair, 11/21/2018
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