Green Lifesavers
Every night you gave me A green lifesaver After you and Mom Went to bed. Once Mom was situated You’d come back, Your stooped, slow gait As sure as the clock on the wall And the beat of Mom’s oxygen machine. “Love you.” “Love you, Dad.’ And off you’d go To bed to keep an eye on Mom. I’d stay up to Have a glass of wine. My heart would Get in time With Mom’s machine. Time would tick on. I saved the Lifesaver For the ride home A sacramental offering To love and its history. When Gram was dying She had a roll of five-flavor Lifesavers. I watched her peel her way down To the green one. Not a frugal Yankee move-- Not one at a time and you’ll get To your favorite when it gets to you. She wanted what she wanted And, dying, would have it. My favorite color. My favorite flavor. I told you. You remembered-- With and for me. We will have what we want. “I love you.” “Remember to turn the light out." “Sure, Dad.”