by Pauline Witte
Sitting at the edge of a meadow
in the safety of a bright day
we talked of loss.
He about the death of his wife.
I of parents and grandparents long gone.
He drives her car.
His new puppy chewed up her shoes.
He wonders why her friends don't call.
Who am I without her he asked?
Later that night when I look in the mirror, I see my mother's hand pick up a comb.
In my bones I feel my grandpa's stooped walk.
I set my jaw, as determined as my father.
Who was I with them?
Who am I without them?
Pauline Witte grew up in Central Wisconsin and tries to reflect the beauty and serenity of that life in her poems. Pauline was a high school English teacher and reading specialist and taught reading methods at the college level. In retirement, she spends a great deal of time gardening and hiking the Ice Age Trail with her dogs.