Walking Maisey Poem by Don Tiedemann
Walking Maisey
The Christmas lights are perfectly still
On the office tower up the hill.
The streets are black, no seasonal white.
We shortcut the park to avoid a fight
With the grumpy lab from the corner home
As I head back to write this poem.
The stars observe as we conclude our walk.
She would ask to keep going if she could talk.
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3/18/2026 12:38:35 AM # 1.0.0
