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Two years have passed


I sit at the same spot

at the kitchen table.



Spring has turned to Summer

Summer to Autumn

Autumn to Winter


And round again

And the world has changed


There is more grey in my beard


Still, I feel the weight of my arms resting on the table,

Still, I hear the sounds of the house around me

water in the pipes,

the click of the heater as it rotates


It is cold outside and wet






There have been moments of sadness, of solitude, of loss






The old man no longer passes my house












But we are still listening to each other

You are still here








Let’s breath together




for a while


























My fingers hover over keys

I pause





Which doors to open











The paths remain

Even when we don’t tread them as frequently




...a passed



     a passage


                 of air


Like the illumination of a tunnel’s walls

As the breath makes its way 

along the trachea


Into bifurcating pathways

Bronchi and alveoli

The branches and leaves of the lungs


The rise of the ribcage

The wait

the weight of bones

surrendering to gravity


this tide

this wash erases

the marks made


a sure eddy of cascading


descending, cleansing


the shore


          and the uncertain



                         away to leave




a sparkling shell bright in the sunlight.

                                                                                                 to be continued

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