Why Do We Wait?
Why do we wait? To say:
Thank you,
I’m sorry,
I was thinking about you,
I miss you,
I love you,
To write a poem or finish a book.
We may be sitting at a table or desk in the morning
drinking our coffee or tea
and think about someone who we remember
or liked or loved or who helped us through a bad time
or who we worry about.
But we do nothing
Thinking it doesn’t matter or its too late.
I wrote this poem about my wife, 23 YEARS AGO.:
The Red Dress
Maybe it takes years to get it right.
Maybe you never do, but you try
And in trying, you succeed a little
And then she dies.
And it’s too late for anything but
The Red Dress.
This was the dress that she wore one night.
She picked it out for you, but she had some doubts;
Would you like it? Was she too old?
Too fat?
When she came down the stairs,
You got excited like you always did
When you saw her body, which
She kept well hidden.
Modesty borne of Southern aunts
And a classic Southern Grandmother
From Northern Mississippi,
Who did not think a lady
should be seen in a red dress, ever.
You loved that red dress,
And she looked great in it,
After 25 years of marriage,
You still got excited when you saw here.
But you didn’t say anything that night,
And then the night was over.
Dinner was great,
you had red wine.
You talked about the kids, the house,
But you never mentioned the red dress.
That night, she took it off and you made love.
She put the dress away in the back of the closet.
That’s where you found it when she died.
The kids are coming home for the funeral
And your daughter will agree
With your unspoken regrets.
So tomorrow you will bury her in it.
and for the rest of your life you will remember
That sometimes it’s too late for anything
But The Red Dress.
F. Thomas Crowley, Jr.
Written on the AMTRAK train from
Old Saybrook, CT to Boston. - April 25, 2001
reviewed – ok - September 27, 2024
Thankfully, I read it to her and she laughed and
agreed with me - It’s never too late
unless someone you meant to call – dies.
