Francie Lynch Poems

A posthumous letter came today:
"My Dear Brother Fran: "
I assume it began;
"Your Loving Brother Sean."
...

Why should I care you're there,
Or anywhere.
It was you who interrupted the night;
I watched you stare down the fire,
...

The hood won't be the same,
We're out standing in the rain,
To encourage sprouts as we once did our children;
For down the road you see it's as legal,
...

I see you're getting old, sitting there,
With youthful eyes, but graying hair;
But I recall the splash of tresses
Blending with the golden sands.
...

The hair is almost normalized,
The hands we hardly notice,
Real news is, with my ensemble,
A red tie splashes well.
...

I don't have a filing cabinet,
I've emptied all the drawers;
Lugged it through my clearing house,
Then gleefully through thedoor.
...

She saw me again, looked my way,
But I wasn't in her eyes.
Yet, I see her everywhere,
Even when she's not there.
...

If you want to feel
As the poet feels,
Don't hold her hand;
Pick up his pen.
...