Upon Reading The Tea-Leaves Of My Father Poem by Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr

Sometimes there be a silent chaos
following the shock and grief of loss.
May I offer you a cup
of Young's Green Tea,
isn't that what old folks drink these day's;
ahhh, but not in your cup,
I know; Classic Coke,
the chisled glass that kept it ice-cold,
that swiveled green tinted bottle,
and a corked cap or freshness;
That was my Father's cup o' afternoon tea.


The unthinkables tend to offer -
options... opportunity
to appreciate the past
and the memories we warm
our grieving hearts with,
or at least... opaque
to the shock, angst and rue
the present and future holds,
and instead just ensconce
in life's quelling fields,
of Life, laughter and tea leaves.

For Tomorrows another day;
my Father always said,
whenever silence seemed to hold
its breath for to long,
from life's sortid ends
that most fear openly,
when day and night meet
to the trance induced shadows
of memories hazed grey-
by encroaching final days,
when cognizance takes void
from matters of the Mind;

My Father feared this most
whenever he'd see
someone bearing this cross:
the mortally ossified,
staring paralytically fixed
at the nothingness before them.
No way to live he'd say....
no dignity to this!
And, so God agreed
and, granted his wish.

My Father was a good and very wise man,
walked each day with his Maker and thanks,
tho' he never liked tea,
nor lent credence to Tasseography!

__________FjR___________


©MMXVI-All rights reserved
Frank James Ryan Jr./FjR
Revised MMXVIII