Two Years After My Husband’s Passing

Today’s poem was inspired by the video prompt at . This is the second in a series of prompts posted at . .




In his mid-60’s, the same age as when we met, with gray hair, sunglasses,

he takes the seat next to me at the ball park.

I half expect him to say, “Hello sweetie.”

Instead, he asks in his familiar, lilting voice

if I’m a Colorado Rockies fan.

I say yes, intent on the game.


My cousin whispers that he looks like Bill.

I ignore her, ask if he knows the score

since I can’t read the board with my limited vision.

He says it’s 0-5 with the opposing team ahead.

We listen, watch in silence,


sing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” at the seventh inning stretch.

He offers to bring me something to eat.

I say I’ll go with him,

stand, take his arm, allow him to guide me,


marvel that his blind eyes can now see in death,

and he no longer walks with a limp.

We purchase our food and drinks, return to our seats.


The opposing team creams the Rockies 12-3.

As we’re getting ready to leave, we shake hands.

He says he’ll see me around,

walks away–I take my cousin’s arm.

We file out of the stadium.


Abbie Johnson Taylor, Author


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Author: abbiejohnsontaylor

I'm the author of two novels,, two poetry collections, and a memoir. My work has appeared in various journals and anthologies. I'm visually impaired and live in Sheridan, Wyoming, where for six years, I cared for my totally blind late husband who was paralyzed by two strokes. Please visit my website at

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