Therapist Poem by Richard George

Therapist



At the end of her last session
she incubates a judgement
you will never read.
But you contain a deeper
enigma - the moments
when she could not see herself.

When she was your heart. You were her eyes.

Now you diverge.
However far you travel
your angle will be the same.
Overhead between you a contrail ripples -
a duet of silence

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Richard George

Richard George

Cheltenham, U.K.
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