Maybe this year, he’ll remember:

Once a year’s not asking much

To send a bunch of flowers –

Has he even heard of such?

Even if he has, seems the florist’s

Rather too far for him to walk,

So he just sends a token;

Doesn’t even want to talk

At length to me, or even phone.

Yet he surely must have known

What I wish from him today

Is not a gift and a card, at most

Sent without a loving thought,

Hastily tossed in the post.

Easy is my wish this year:

Son, I’d love to see you here.