It’s nine in the morning.

I don’t recall the year.

Sometime seventies?

Maybe eighties?

Matters not the year.

What matters is the fear!

I came a visitor,

Traveling past my nephews to share

A moment with them for me to stop and see

And stopped unexpectedly there

Surprised them the night before

To stay just the one night

Then off again feeling quite happy,

Quite happy and quite free.

But, now, it’s nine in the morning.

My nephew and his wife have gone to work,


I sit,

in their basement apartment


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