You came looking for me, your second choice long kept on a shelf in the back of your closet with unread books and a college text the throwaways of your younger self; an unwanted toy which never gave voice to the hurt of being second choice.
Oh you kept me hooked; your back up boy always ready for you and eager to play; pulling me from the shelf now and then for amusement; your brightly stuffed toy, your taste of the day ‘til you tired of me and put me away in the walk in closet of forgotten memory
’til the first fine line and your first touch of gray sent you fishing on Facebook for the one thrown away; And you went to your closet in search of me but the cupboard was bare, for you see I too had a back up girl and we turned out to be the parents of three.
Did I cheat her of something? What does it matter; she’ll never know; like me she was extra Who’s the one next to you in the group photograph? Who’s the one with the face too unhappy to laugh?
I was born during year four of the reign of Emperor Tiberius Claudius on the outskirts of the empire in Brooklyn. I married my high school sweetheart, the girl I took to the prom and we were together for forty years until her passing in 2004.
We had four kids together and buried two together. I had a successful career in Corporate America (never got rich but made a living) and traveled the world.
I am currently retired in the Tampa Bay metro area and live alone. One of my daughters is close by and one within a morning’s drive. They call their pops everyday.
I try to write poetry (not very well), and about family. Occasionally I will try a historical piece relating to politics.