toddler in the house. My brother’s son. Will he have more children, I wonder to myself as I make tea. Watching a
dog sleep. The roses grow (abundance) with a kind of finesse and poise in the region where understanding meets the meat of the sun
under the vision of a nighthawk.
The swimmer has a lithe body. Slender and lean she cuts through the pool. She’s not thinking
(The dog lifts his head. Scratches itself.)
yet of her equanimity when facing her father’s (who is in the autumn of his years, right now),
his death. Even the painting hanging on a wall in the sitting room of her childhood-house and sanctuary speaks of a country language in rural tones. A concrete language.
The stage is set.
Don’t forget all about me. If you do I’ll haunt you for the rest of your days. I’ll visit your dreams.
This poem is all about the people in my life (a love letter to them). I write poems about people. People who live in faraway cities. Like Prague and Brazil. Paris, France. Stockholm.
I write about places that I wish I could visit.
*********************************************************************** Abigail George has two books in the Ovi Bookshelves, "All about my mother" & "Brother Wolf and Sister Wren" Download them, NOW for FREE HERE!