I did not know
the definition of mortality
when I played
with the hour
glass my grandmother
kept on a round coffee table
in the great room
overlooking the sound.
The only house
that has ever mattered
to me. Every poem
passes through its rooms
to the waterfront porch
where my father taught me
how to tie my shoes
so I could run away.
Love this. Beautiful.
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Ah, thanks!
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Amy…. This poem really resonates…. So beautifully arranged and meaningful. Wow!
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Thanks!
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