Silly Old Widower

I see you

Walking through the mist of a lakeside morning.

The birds flutter and fly off as you stroll by.

Angelic silhouette piercing the blurring sky

A meandering gate, a step here, another there.

The way your hair falls, the bounce in your step.

It must be you.

But as you draw near I see it is not.

You have been gone a long time.

You would be old…different…like me.

But when I look at her

I see a little bit of you.

I do.

just enough to wonder

What would be you?

 

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