Living an Old Story
I am living an old story
my parents
biological machines eight decades in running
on the verge of being decommissioned by
their operators
that inner spark—
the soul
I am living an overused trope
a son who realizes
the final goodbye
dawns on the horizon
wanting conversations to never end
even as words to keep talking fail to
manifest
day after day
When the sun rises
a bittersweet fruit
of regret
will ripen
I am living a cliché
sorrow already a cloak
around my shoulders
grief already causing tears
to spring to my eyes
loss already wringing
a sob from my chest
I am living a tragic plot
foreshadowing foretelling
a conclusion that cannot be revised
wishing in vain for an alternate ending
a rewrite
a gentler tale where mother and father
rise in forever dawns
their sight a familiar sight
as they play familial roles
year after year
a performance that stretches back
to before language
cemented memory
I will live an epilogue where
for the first time their characters
are absent
from the pages of my narrative
my five senses never again
detecting the presence of my parents
their stories finished and I
stepping into the sequel
of a series that began
generations ago
I am living the now
ingesting each word
of an age-old story
yet to end
Author: Todd Sullivan
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