Friday, November 11, 2011


Parallel lines.
Some waver out; while others stop
bluntly. A fat ending, as if the pen left the page
still full of ink.

So much has happened since you left.
I don't know what you'd make of it all.
I like to imagine you'd be pleased.
You have a new niece. With hazel eyes, like yours, and a face that seems
to accommodate a grin much more comfortably than any other expression.
I wish you could see her.
I imagine you'd smile.

Her life - a line that has only just started.
Parallel to yours.
No intercept.


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