Hiking in the fall
in the mountains
high above the Rhine and its tributaries,
late grapes on colorful vines
are waiting for the first frost
– only a memory now.
Holding onto my grandfather’s hand,
we walk between carousels set up
in the middle of our historic downtown.
I trust him to wait for me
when I leave the chain carousel
that made me fly high above our town.
Melancholy permeates my thoughts
as memories of long gone people float by –
holding hands, laughter, a hug,
a loving word;
if only they could bring back
what I miss so much.
Family
so surprising to only remember
the good times:
annual family gatherings,
numerous birthday celebrations,
car loads of squabbling cousins,
vying for the attention of beloved grandparents.
If only I could relive one such moment!
If only I could touch my mother’s hair
one more time,
if only I could sing once more
‘Don’t fence me in’ with my father
before Alzheimer’s took him away.
… if only…
Hiking Poet 