I weave through the coven

of furtive smokers huddled

around the main entrance

a sort of passive aggressive

warning to others,

inside is sign city madness

it has to be of course, even

so, I have to ask directions,

the sympathetic response

says all I need to know and

there you are, surrounded

by your children, like four

grey angels, two holding

your hands as if to lift you,

sitting quietly, I think back

to our first meeting, you

gave me tea without sugar

I’ve never used it since,

it was humbling that you

asked for me to come,

today of all days

 

© GRS 4/4/25