I sit with a woman in a tall building.
She asks the year, I tell her two thousand
and eight. She shakes her head in disbelief.
I ask if she thought she’d live this long.
For a moment she thinks, but does not answer,
she is somewhere on floor six and tells
me her mother will be here soon.
On my drive home, the hospital I was born in
has been torn down. I become disorientated
and lose where I am, a small heritage
house astray within skyscrapers of seasons.







...lol. But what a sweetheart you are and so deserving of all of it.

















Great Work...Loved the read





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