When in my dream my uncle Joe
walked up to me
his eyes alive and flashing
with the same wry humor
that was his gift
and told me that he wasn't dead
that all these years
he'd just been hiding out
I didn't think to ask him
all the things
I wish I'd asked him
things that I'd be quick
to ask him now
he died when I was young
but isn't that
so often how it goes
the questions only come to us
when it's too late
when those we loved
and love still have moved on
grandparents who would have had
so much to tell us
except that we were young
and didn't know
the things to ask
and if we had how much
of what they might have shared
would we have understood
yet of the many things we heard
and saw when we were young
there are those
we come to understand
only years later
as life goes on and we
continue with the work
of smoothing seams
aligning colors
matching patterns
quilting up the crazy patchwork
of our lives