I went for a stroll in Saddle River Park
and looked up at the bright blue sky
studded with a trail of white clouds.
I pleaded with my deceased wife:
Please speak to me!
I immediately heard her delicious
giggle joyously romping between
fluttering leaves all around me.
A cherub shaped cloud pointed at me
as I hear my wife whisper in the wind:
Don’t overdo your walk!
When I step behind bushes to take a leak,
I spy a broken piece of a Dutch Delft
Windmill which she would use for her art.
I pocket it to take along when I find her.
A skywriting plane flies by advertising
The Nuyorican Poets Café where I have
advised poets: Tonight, I will be your
waiter, and my name is John Milton.
My wife can’t stop laughing.