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The Visit

The Visit


Beached in his lean-back chair 

He sits reclined and staring into what 

I cannot reach. 

An introvert at soul, he comes alive  

When younger spirits enter, sit 

Attendant after banter in the circle 

Discovering their own lives inside 

His gift of weaving wings from spiderwebs 

 

Memories of dialogs gone by 

Characters like sibling stars 

Intermingling until 

A laugh erupts and bubbles from the belly up 

Until it catches fire around the circle 

Fills and lifts off high  

Into eternal elements. 

  

 Inspired by Mary Lou Kowalski's little book of poems and commentary entitled Old Monk, this is the first (and only, so far) in my hoped-for collection: Old Married.

 

 

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