Poetry Corner, by Jim Farfaglia

Landlady, by Jim Farfaglia

 

Just a hair under five feet tall,

her mug of coffee ever present,

she’d show up each day

to wash the dirty dishes

nine college boys had stacked high.

 

When I’d stop by with my rent

she’d invite me in to listen

as she played piano;

toe tapping the rhythm of her youth,

fingers waltzing through the years.

 

When we were sick,

she’d offer home remedies;

when we were short on cash,

she’d lend quarters for the laundry—

I can’t remember if I ever paid her back.

 

She was as devoted to us—

her boys, as we were known—

as she was to her husband,

her piano,

her dishes.

 

Oh, how she filled her life to the brim;

the first time I’d seen it done so well.

 

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