The Gap

The breezy antics of  Palmyra trees...

                                                I remember the swing on which you said
                             Heaven could be reached
The trust with which I spread my wings
And not safe landing,  wiping oozing blood
Then  dual, wiped tears
A mutual piled up grief  between

A dying father, a dead father

I swing again, the mind's eye                                               

 I hear you ring, say 'hi'

                    Amidst catch up I say "I had a fall"
Old years silence, you say "take care"
Yes, I feel awkward too
Strange, past wiped tears
Grief(plural) private, subject no more"we"
 mutually unseen.
             I know you too have

  A single unwiped tear.