For My Father
By Maria M. Adame
Time has slipped through like film
through a projector;
the clock’s hand bangs every mocking
I still see your last moments.
Your eyes squeezed with love.
And for the first time, your gaze
placed the unknown on me
until your frail breath left me,
left me discolored like a powerless
It has been over a year.
Your favorite season, autumn, is here:
the wet smell, bright, flaming leaves
decorating the baby blue canvas.
Fireplaces are burning: it is time
for you to hold my wee face in
your warm, wool coat.
And when the sky was fluffy gray
with rain, we went to the movies:
The Karate Kid, and restaurants: DiCicco’s,
and bookstores where
it smelled of friendly coffee.
Then Christmas! Santa Claus
never failed: Baby dolls,}
Barbie dolls, then my first
tape player you hid in the corner.
Christmas tree lights sparkled
like your gleaming, safe, warm
eyes that still hold me…
Maria M. Adame was born in San Jose and raised in Fresno. She has been writing poetry since the age of 7. Her father, Leonard Adame, a published poet, taught her about writing poems and essays her whole life. She is currently a substitute teacher in grades K-12 and is in the process of earning a teaching credential.