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Across the bridge,

I bring flowers, and sit on the ground with them

They talk to me without speaking – no judgment, nothing wanting.

I listen, and hear the past, and remember how it was when they were here, and how they helped me just by being here;

I would watch TV with them, and they would argue over who was in what show: “Was that Eddie Albert or Van Johnson?”

They would ask me,”No big plans?”


It was enough.

I sat like that then, and I sit like this now – no big plans, and it is enough.

Good visit, M and D.

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