Fluke

Swift as air, the jet took me back.....
to my roots.
The pre-Thanksgiving fares to Philly sucked me in,
like mom's Hoover vacuum.
And Lady Luck, her diamonds catching the rays of a thousand moonlit nights, 
held my hand,
when I stayed with an old childhood friend.
Together we walked the fields near the murky river,
and lamented what never became.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2017

Poem

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