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Walking
Through The Tombstones
Walking through the tombstones
Triggers thoughts about
Our clock controlled lives
Where even the past is
Rescheduled and time
Adjusted,
How many times
Have you played
Until you were tired
Then slept until sleep
Was done,
Made love until
You fell asleep in
Each other’s arms
And awoke to the sun
Still touching,
No alarm clocks
Or automatic waking
Devices,
Walking through the tombstones
Stirs the hippy,
The gypsy in me,
Reminds me of the lady
Who comes in now and then,
At first on canes
With her fellow,
Then a walker,
Then her fellow left,
Then in a wheelchair,
Now in an adult stroller
With a caregiver on the clock,
Everything going or gone except
For her mind,
When she comes in
We turn on the rock-n-roll
Full blast and it’s eyes smiling,
Thumbs up,
Souls dancing
Outside of time.
Stephen Nesbitt ©
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