The Last Window

He looked frail Touching walls as he walked by Insisting That he could put decorative Molding around a window In his baby granddaughter’s room A simple job he said Could take no more out of him Than the doctors already did Wouldn’t go up on a ladder Like he did all those years Did it standing In the afternoon sun Feet firmly squared on the ground. My daughter is older now On her own Her room changed over the years Gone is the Play kitchen set The cute dolls The pirate trunk And all those toys. Sometimes In evening When the air is warm And the whisper of stillness Clings everywhere I look through the window Which was never changed I see my daughter Playing in her room Hear her loud laughter Playthings scattered everywhere I also see the imprint of my father in law’s Handiwork Good after all these years And I remember How it was His last job.