These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

Ubi Sunt: "Where Go the Blissful Hopes?"

The days of life all find the mist
as wing-ed youth turns ancient weight.
My mother's cheeks, now long since kissed,
sleeps by the side of her dear mate.

The Christmas songs of long ago,
the three-three thirds and forty-fives.
The record players we did know
no longer played, no longer thrive.

Where is the rumble seat for trips?
Where is the faux wood along-side?
Vacations then are now just blips.
We live here without parents' pride.

Where are the days of pats-on-backs?
Where are the days of medals won?
Where are the smiles, that wiped all lacks?
Where is encouragement as his son?

These days are written in a Book.
The Wisest One knows how to find
the memory's bliss, the longing look,
and when they're seen His Mercy's kind.

by Jay O’Toole
on July 12th, 2024