Thursday, December 16, 2010

What I Want to Say to the Young Man about The Missing Cat

I'm old and
find myself worrying about the cat,
while you
open the door
and rush about the world.

I'm light in weight now
never really
leaving my night clothes,
a confined creature.
You think of bigger outside things.

Your promises to me are
small in worth.
Now I know I am old,
far beneath you.
My voice fades.
I fall asleep with prayers.

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