One poem by Richard Luftig

Practice

I was ten and playing

the piano when he

walked out the door,

down the drive.

I waved but don’t think

he saw. He died

that day. Now,

I can’t let anyone

leave without saying

goodbye, saying

I love you. If you

are going to work,

going to war,

it does not matter.

I must give you a kiss.

I think it drives most people nuts.

Richard Luftig is a former professor of educational psychology and special education at Miami University in Ohio now residing in Pomona, CA. He is a recipient of the Cincinnati Post-Corbett Foundation Award for Literature and a semi finalist for the Emily Dickinson Society Award. His poems have appeared in numerous literary journals in the United States and internationally in Japan, Canada, Australia, Europe, Thailand, Hong Kong and India.