a stone in a river, 12

Your bookkeeping has given way, numbers tumbling like the Yahtzee dice. You 76, at the 5-year survival mark, turned over the checkbook — can’t subtract anymore — and now little black dots send signals you know you should know. The score isn’t what it should be.

/ / /

/ / /

Happy birthday, dear Mother. (Ed/ note: I moved this from the prose lines.)

4 thoughts on “a stone in a river, 12

    • Isn’t it grand how young we have stayed in these five years?!
      We met at Poetry Thursday, which I started my first defunct blog for: Gazing Cat back in December of 2006. I lurked for 6 months before that, though. And read you. 🙂

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