A boy in an orange bow tie
smiles as I leave my house each day;
and
when I return each evening,
he smiles at me in the same way.
If hurried, I dash quickly by him,
knowing full well that he is there,
making
no attempt at eye contact,
still he smiles not having a care.
Sweet, that smile, the innocence,
sad how quickly boys do grow,
into
men with old framed photographs
of those they used to know.
It is time that you start making a collection and seeing to it that it is distributed/preserved in a way that will outlive you. Perhaps you think of them as mere quips but, in my humble opinion as a former Arts Council President, this is art.
ReplyDeleteLeave something for posterity. There is no one else; again, in my opinion, worthy of agreeing with me.
Thank you, Jim. This is the nicest compliment, and encouragement I have yet to receive since starting this blog.
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