The Word Immortal by T. J. Herrin

I write about you,
us, watching TV, eating dinner You
steal French fries, a twinkle in your eye, watching
old reruns of moments past.
Running your rough hand through
a crackling beard,
telling the same jokes over
and over. Jokes only a daughter still finds funny.

 I write about you,
standing in a garden, making plans
and puddles, watering braided hibiscus
 until dusk settles in, and you come inside
sit by my side, radiating heat. Please,
tell me, again, I’m lovely like the cardinals are
vibrant. Tonight, the moonflowers glow.

I write about you,
while the moon grins at us. Counting stars
we raise our glasses,
ponder death and living. Our faces
feeling, the same night air.

If I write about you,
you live forever,
between my words and phrases
and never really die.

I am a writer living in San Antonio Texas. I am earning my BA in English with a concentration in creative writing from The University of Texas at San Antonio. ( will be graduating in December). I write poetry, fiction, and non-fiction. I love whiskey, dogs, and long peaceful walks. In between, I look over my many children and try to pass on the love of words. 

T. J. Herrin