The Last Party

There was always something too somber about black lace.
I always liked the red dress on you.
This party is less formal.
Suddenly I miss the smell of baking bread
The beacon throughout the neighborhood
That a party would soon fill the house.

So quiet seems the house
The white curtains now yellow lace
The furniture arranged like an empty neighborhood
Nothing left, but traces of you.
Today, no one baked bread.
I was unprepared to see Dad so formal.

I feel nervous, as if at a high school formal
In a dress as big as a house.
Is there enough food? Should I have baked bread?
Suddenly I remember those blue sneakers with no shoelace
For Christmas, I remember I begged you.
I was the star of the neighborhood.

We’ve decided to leave the old neighborhood,
We’ll find Dad somewhere informal.
Somewhere close so we can visit you.
There’s no longer a need for such a big house.
Maybe I’ll keep those curtains of lace
And maybe I’ll learn to bake bread.

I never learned your secret for baking bread.
Maybe I’ll give it as gifts to my new neighborhood
And wear a Jackie Kennedy dress of black lace.
These things are so depressing and formal.
I hope they don’t make a mess of our house.
Yes, I definitely like the red dress on you.

I will always think of you
As happy in the kitchen, with warm, sweet bread
Filling up our beautiful house.
The belle of the neighborhood
Small, and charming, how you loved to be formal,
Sometimes in black lace.

Nothing will ever be the same in our neighborhood.
Downstairs it’s all tears, whispers and formal.
Nothing says death like black lace.


Julie M. Alden ©
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