think

one, two, three, four....
I think, think, think.
I think of my father,
and how he thinks of me.
Does he respect me?
Does he love me?
I think so.

I think of my mother:
two years ago, she passed away.
I think of the stale hospice,
the cancer, the grasping for breath, for life,
the death.
What was she thinking
in her final hour:
Does she think she lived a good life?
Did she think that I loved her?
I think so.

I think of my brother,
away at college.
I hope he is thinking,
any kind of thinking at all.
I think I should give him
more credit, but
I think he doesn't care.
I think I love him,
regardless of our past, our history.
I think he is capable,
if he only thought so.

I think of my family,
my life.
I think I have lived a good life.
I didn't used to think this,
but I think things will work out
in the end.
If I think happy thoughts,
I think I can fly.
I think life is short,
so I think
I will start living.