A Gift Poem by Richard Berengarten

You, other, fellow, person, human, neighbour,
whose kin cannot be proved, who yet are kin,
though strange, and stranger far for being within,
you, sharer and divider of this labour
I toil at here - what for? who for? for you?
Or for my vanity? or therapy? or pride? -
What will you make of this once I have died
and you glance at or through, yet can't gaze through?
Our only rendezvous, sole meeting place
is here, among, in, through, beneath, behind
these plural words, and in their virtual space,
for here we greet and touch, as kin, as kind.
So, singular, far friend, although your face
is stranger, here we meet in heart and mind