Sunday, September 27, 2009


She sits in the middle of the booth:
grey light of the rare, cloudy, wind-swept day
in southern california,
appropriately in mission valley,
frames her like a picture
in my mind;
She smiles and there are star bursts i see;
she tosses her head and her long hair
gracefully flows like symphony I hear;
she speaks and bells chime and wisdom flows
far beyond her years,
I think.
it is sweet connection,
perhaps because i am beyond her years,
with others claiming my attention
with responsibility – sweet sorrow of the unattainable, and
it frees us to talk freely –
i care in so many ways for
this woman
who must look at me and wonder
how a relic, a fossil came into her life.
Yet she too can talk openly,
making the old fossil glad,
even knowing it will not go beyond
the talking which rings the bells,
the booth sitting in the starbursts, nor
the graceful moves which flow like a symphony:
Dvorjak, I think;
appropriately the new world.

Bonita, California
February 13, 2007

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