red jam jar half full of a drunken lobby
lobby to be everything when I miss the
smallest things
the pine needles soft bed
the stamens color yellow dusted
and the smell of spring
with you in the death bed
my head lifted to the wind in the sky
I will lobby for the day we can sit in the sun
talk about Daddy's last days and how you left too early
and the wine in my glass misses you more
because it is nearly summer and you are still gone
and the pit in my throat
is drunk and crying.