I remember the shadows and the

long arms of equal strength. I see the

smiles and pain and the seasons passing.

The voices stream out into a river

of noise until I hear the one voice I’m

looking for.


The thoughts provide a salve of healing.

There are scars, but no longer visible.

The bruises and cuts seem indistinguishable

to the harsh words, all of it resembling

a dryness like late autumn leaves.


I recall the aroma of lilacs in the morning.

A morning dew covering canvas awnings.

I can hear the red wing blackbirds

heading to the tidal basin, finding a familiar

Cat-o-nine-tails to settle on.


There was also a favorite dog and a cat

with one ear.




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