William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

On the Way Home

Spring at last — the old man was a child all along.

I spent most of yesterday writing that line. It isn’t much, I know, but I also walked, ran, and talked to a retired neighbor, who’s one of the friendliest, most positive people I’ve ever met. He also walks and runs. He rides a bicycle, too, and is looking forward to sunny days ahead. On the way home, I decided the line was a poem, and that the poem was done.


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Categories: Daybook

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