her day at 80

i remember

asking

my friend who was 80 at the time,

how she spent her

day.

she brought out a tray

of cups

and saucers,

a kettle of tea,

some sugar and cream.

we sat in her garden,

besides the new flowers,

under her

favorite tree.

it was neither summer

or spring,

but the kind of weather

that falls

gently in between.

well, she said, today,

we do this,

you and me, talking books

and film.

you tell me your worries,

your ambitions,

and i tell you

that later, after going to

the post office

i'll take a nap.

and maybe, after dinner

take a short

walk

with my dog.

at night i'll go to bed

and read,

until i'm too tired to go on.

i'll mark

the page,

then fall asleep.