dancing on the horizon
of memory
the ladies gathered every evening
tap-tapping with canes and shuffling mules
to talk about the storm that was always coming
and the girl that walked to Seattle
pain always sitting on somebody’s lap
and death on a bench in the corner
pretending to be ignored
no one rose up to kiss away the chip
on a bony-cold squared-off shoulder
no one was afraid and
no one was falling
for the pout on the face of resistance
by this time they were all old friends
acceptance was the belt
holding the bathrobe closed
and besides, thelma told
the best stories
.
.
.
April 3rd, 2017 at 3:26 pm
and where would we be without stories? ~
April 3rd, 2017 at 7:29 pm
Love your post. As I am nearly 65yrs now and still mindful of people much older than myself, it puts lives of such people in perspective, one of understanding.
April 3rd, 2017 at 8:58 pm
you certainly painted a vivid picture in my mind with these words!
April 3rd, 2017 at 9:04 pm
Lovely. I can appreciate, not only because I work with the elderly,but also imagine this is where my friends and I will land in those ever-closing-in “golden years.”