It is going to happen isn't it?
Though not from the fiction
my preacher spun from his pulpit
about being conceived in sin.
No, from my doctor's version
it will be the unraveling story
of my genes measured
in a tangle of IV drips
that will cocoon my hospital bed.
But the future I'd like to imagine
is while strolling with my wife of 50+
summers, and she's walked ahead,
there'll be throb in my arm.
And I'll stumble toward a bench
to catch a final glimpse of the wind
wrapping her skirt around her legs.
Lord, what a lovely poem, Geoffrey! Hope you had a great Easter, and you and the family are in super shape! (Did you marry when you were 18? Or are you employing poetic license with the 50+ summers?)1luv pam
We've been married now for 30+ summers. Twenty more years seems all right.
I have read this poem a few times. It is wonderful. The last stanza is already memorised
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