Wednesday, 3 July 2013

Poetry Lives

I don't remember 
meeting you 
the first time
but this time
you brought a poem 
for my mom
on her birthday.

You both sat quietly
while I stood there
bowed head
paper in hand
eyes recognizing words
that could be my own.

When I looked up 
(my eyes swirling
with hope and wonder and love)
you smiled and said,
"I made that copy for you."



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