gratitude
Gratitude
He is not here today, the mantle he wrapped
around his bony shoulders, when there was a chill in the air
is carelessly flung on the sofa
A zephyr whispers, he will not return
Will I be that old? I ask the fading sun
I sit on the balcony, a blanket covers my shoulders against the cold
afternoon chill
Here in the vale where I was born and where my parents lived
I wait for the September rain and remember
I've had an easy life
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