This is the first poem where I've managed to use a Poetry Thursday prompt, broken thread.
You Are Disappearing
What I remember:
Fuchsia crepe myrtle hanging low from its branches.
Pink Cadillac in the driveway. Hot dogs fried
in Crisco with mayonnaise dolloped on the side.
Old peppermint candy from the bottom of your purse.
Picking me up from day care when my father
couldn’t be reached. Bifocals. Your wedding photo.
Your graying hair stuck in the forest of your brush.
Your leaving and your loss.
A flower whose name I will forget by the end
of this poem. An empty house. Your hands,
which I have claimed for myself. A motherless
father. A broken thread in need of repair. Being
old enough to remember, but not recalling a thing.