Friday, December 03, 2004


My grandparent's porch
at twilight,
three generations,
comfortable, loving.
Children playing,
paying scant attention
to the precious stories
falling like jewels
around their feet.
Tales now only remembered
in tiny portions,
vague and pleasant,
not complete, leaving me
yearning to go back,
to be a child again,
to hear their voices
one more time,
this time more carefully.

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