I talk death and I assume you comprehend,
Such merriment.
I stalk the sun in May
Making the most of the good weather
I dig up mounds of earth in
My designated plot in the garden.
Brush up the remnants of winter
& wash down the chairs and the table
Where we sat last night & when
I interpreted your loyal patience as an opportunity to talk
Death...I got it all wrong.

You in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt
& smiling widely, asking me to smile back
& I couldn’t cause it hurt.

Me in my sphere
You in yours,
Never overstepping that tentative line
Between us
Even in a photograph.
Me in my designated plot
knee deep and our laughter
catching the moment together!


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