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Still No Pictures


It's been over five months, Dad
I still haven't received pictures of you,
I was promised, by your wife
That I could have a few.

She promised to send me ashes
In a tiny, glass, necklace jar,
It's the only way, I can be closer to you
I'm still wondering where they are.

I know I shouldn't bother her
But, deep down, I have the right,
Dad, I still think of you
Morning, noon and every night.

Copyright Cynthia Jones
Nov.20/2007

I shouldn't have to have to keep calling my Dad's place, asking and begging to have pictures of him and ashes I was promised over five months ago.

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