Saturday, March 31, 2007

Not Goodbye

When he combs
her soft silver hair
he is not saying goodbye.

He is feeling
the worth of her texture
and watching for smiles.

Do you remember, he is saying
(knowing how memories of closed things
can quickly fade) what happened on those
silent evenings among the cushions?

He is reminding her
of what she owned
that others wanted.


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