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     -    for my grandson


There’s no need for fox glove, baby

aspirin, oxygen or antibiotic. Just trust

me. All I ask is for you to lean near

and whisper Daz, Daz let’s play as

you did (and oh how I loved it) way

back when you were barely a child

and I still held memory’s hand. Nudge

my better self as you always have Buddy

and know that above all I hear you.


And when my tongue can no longer climb

the mountain of speech and my poems

lay packed among my tools, peek

Buddy, over my shoulder to the path

home and see us still there

as I still do. 


Published in The Healing Muse

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