For Florence, July,1984
I watch her watching,
Watching the show,
Her grey head cocked
As though she knew she would be
Part of the myth, the mystery
Of life and death, all too soon.
Like the mouse of life
Waiting for the cat of death.
And when I can no longer watch,
I kiss her warm cheek
Because it is still warm.
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Comments about this poem (For Florence, July,1984 by Fred Babbin )
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