Ofrenda

 
My father’s ashes sit on my sister’s windowsill
Along with other family members overlooking the yard
And whenever I visit on festive occasions
I make sure I have a drink
With a slight nod and toast to him
In honor of his memory

So I think…
Maybe when my time comes
And my kids and grandkids put my picture out
I’d want them to remember our times
As they read some of my poetry
Giggling while reading them rhymes

Then I’ll come across the bridge
Smelling the food and hearing them laugh
And I’ll say - laugh because life is good kids
As they drink and toast over my epitaph