Monday, April 6, 2020

a bag of macaroons

my father

tucked tight in his little
apartment

near the ocean
sounds

good on the phone.
at 92

he's doing fine.
meals on wheels.

the television always
on.

neighbors stopping by.
waving,

bringing him cakes
and pies.

his nine
or more

children completely
out of sight

out of mind.

he's safe in his little
cocoon, without a worry,

a care.
sitting on the porch

with a cup of black coffee
and a bag

full of macaroons.

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