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A Passing Sigh

If I’ve got the job

If he says yes

If the paycheck arrives

If she says no


Poetry loves the if’s 

and the why’s--

she leans in, says,

Tell me more, darling.

It’s all right. I have all day.

Don’t be shy.


Okay then:

If he becomes ill

If they lose their house

If the business fails

If my child is hurt


Pain hits shore in a mighty 

crash; Poetry leans in, folding 

her hands. I understand.  

Tell me more.



spiders crawling through the mind



light shimmering on a stream



a mighty crash onto shore

(yet now released, 

a passing sigh)


Yes, darling. I’m glad you’ve

arrived.  Now would you like

some tea?

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