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Mr. Smith

Mr. Smith

he used to

stand

in his driveway

staring

not sure at what …

but he’d stand

that way

for a while

each dawning day

there in his undershirt

and uniform pants

maybe he was admiring

the pristine green

that was his lawn

courtesy of his wife’s

diligent demeanor

 or maybe he was

following the wing

of a bird

or a butterfly

or a bee

he could have been

watching the wind

play with potted petals

or following the line

of his shadow

end to end

who knows

but him

later in life

he’d be joined

by a little, fluffy, yapping dog

white as his hair

that he’d treat like a child,

the child he never had

but the dog

did what dogs do

and got old

and sick

and too tired to yap

or stand in the driveway

guess he did, too

last week

he made his wife

a widow

after 59 years

but something

tells me

he’s staring

at her

each dawning day

TL

Published inTamiko Lowery