Susan, the Giver
The pictures of our past
Capture the vast
Panorama of my family life
They sum up both the strifes
And joys between frames.
But the future remains crap games,
Each roll of the dice a random
Toss. There’s no memorandum
Or preview giving a hint of woulda
Shoulda, or what might have coulda.
Our family biography of what was,
Has been recorded; it’s set
With the exception of a coronet
Or tiara for someone to wear when
They were cast as wise men
Or some king or queen of this or that.
What has happened to us in that past
We look at is the only time
We actually know. Tomorrow’s prime
Or ordinary times are Ready, Set
But no Go with the family bio; Not yet,
Those chapters have lost a major
Member, one of the stars, who, I’ll wager,
Would be, true to history, Susan the Nurterer,
The Builder, the Girder; Susan, the Giver.