By 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.
blindboy’schildcoatsdeservefootpathsgummyhymnslaughmusicold manraptureswaddledwheeledwifewrists
Howard Gardener
June 28, 2012David, this is fantastic. So much to consider in so relatively few words.