Dad! Are you coming?

His thumb flickers through the switch,
Of his late wife’s memories,
Music permeates the room,
Lit in an evening gaze,
His daughter calls,
“Dad! Are you coming?”
While dancing with her date,
Downstairs,
One her dad prepared,
Reliving a passed prom,
While they danced,
Their eyes transfixed in the present,
His was a gathering of dust to the wind.

Note: Just my recollection of the last scene from the movie “Contagion,” where the daughter breathed joy in the present while the father mourned memories from pictures taken by his late wife from her digital camera.

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