poem- love thy Lion

The dryer is on.
I just put the bed sheets in.

I’m in my office
thinking about Gavin,
and listening to the soft
mumbling of the dryer.
The cat is on the floor,
next to my chair,
looking for attention.

Outside, I can hear the wind,
it’s not strong, not today,
but it’s there and I can see it
gently pushing the cold winter
tree branches.

Soon, I’ll leave my office,
walk down to the end of our driveway,
and wait.

I’ll kick at the ice and snow
until the bus arrives.
The school bus doors will open
and the familiar whooshing sound
will pass through me
as I climb the bus stairs
to gather my four-year-old heart.

He’ll be buckled into the seat,
just in back of the bus driver,
and I’ll say, “Hi, Gavin. It’s time
to get off the bus.”

He’ll reply, “I’m not Gavin.”
“Then, who are you today?”
“I’m king of the jungle. I’m a Lion.”
“Well hello, Lion. Let’s go work on your puzzle.”
“OK, but, I’m a Lion.”

Yes, you are.
And always will be.

-M. Taggart