SKYPE ( Poem written by my dad, Alan)

SKYPE

We peer at each other on our computer screen
She with her smile and two missing front teeth-
He with his whiskers and gray hair.
She is 6 and he is 66.

Years separate them
Time rests comfortable in her imagination
with visions of unending tomorrows.
Time rests on his shoulders with a sense
that it will end.

What comes next?
He does not know
But when he peers at the screen
he spies a small glimpse of heaven.
A bit of what once was and may be.