Cup

She is doing the dishes, washing his cup
Staring out the small kitchen window
To her garden, memories blooming
The sweet smell of a fresh summer
A longer breath out

The cup with “The greatest dad”, a gift
From the two big men, then their boys
She would watch, through the window
How they would play soccer all fathersday
Until the sun went down

She recognized this moment. Cup in hand
As she studies the green handle, red letters
Last whiskey from it, cheers on the funeral
Now it’s dust free and shining, filled with memories
This moment is the last step, as she puts it away

And her boys are men, with boys of their own
She, A grandma alone, six years, eight months
But now, as she dries her hands, cleansing done
A fresh summer visible through the window,
For the first time since, she feels at peace