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An old man, wrists like a boy’s, round and round

the footpaths of the park, wheeled his wife

swaddled in many fading coats. She was blind,

made a gummy music that might have been hymns.

A child, passing, did not know when to laugh,

nor I, a young man then, how to deserve

such rapture.


© Copyright David Selzer
1 Response
  • Howard Gardener
    June 28, 2012

    David, this is fantastic. So much to consider in so relatively few words.

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