1962-My Mother, My Father

I met my mother in

The kitchen

On the Stove

Though, she was unaware

Of my presence

She

With her soft hair and

Gentle voice as

She

Prepared my father’s meal

During half time

He

With his logic shrouded in the

Secrecy of his

Love…For…Her

With joyous abandon they

Laughed and

Played and

Shushed each other so

The other three wouldn’t hear

And their rhythms were

Synchronous with the

Clock as they

Kissed and

Fumbled and

Giggled

Sweetly and

The commercial break ended as

The clock signaled that the

3rd quarter was about to

Begin

And she smiled and

Smoothed her hair and

Apron; and

His gaze shifted as

He re-buttoned his shirt and

She returned to prepare the

Meal and

He sat in front of the glowing

Black and white tube and

She with her soft hair and voice and

He with his shrouded love and

Both souls drenched with their desire

Separated by the

Clock as it finished counting the

15th minute

4…3…2…1…

“…and it’s a high kick to the

17th yard line!” and…

There is where I stood.

Marie Vera

MEDPREP Class of 2008