I’m too old for wishes,
My children remind me.
Little brats, I say.
Don’t I deserve,
To cash in all of my time,
And remember what it felt like,
— for just one moment, I beg you —
To be young and loved.
and to have the wisdom
to appreciate it this time.
You have such a way with words
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You are, as always, much too kind. Thank you. That’s what I delight in prose-poetry. You find the song in language.
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