Poem: At the Window

Sooner or later it is our own turn at the window.

At the Window A small inheritance from my brother     and what does it mean? It means he loved me, found me needy     late in life That he has stood at the window and moved on     and now I am the next in line     and will move on like him,     but without a legacy to leave It means the small cold feeling     of a printer cartridge run out,     or unexpected electric-bills,     need no longer turn me to panic He smiles at me from a photograph,     the only one I have and puts his arm around me,     taking care of my careless self Grins his grin, winks and leaves the window

This poem is included in Jim Freeman's poetry collection THE SMELL OF TWEED AND TOBACCO available here in print or as an e-Book in your favorite formats.