WHEN – III

 

When did we get old she asked him
I know
when
my parents died
lined up one by one
they did at
the exit door and
then just left and
I moved up
the reception line
outstretched handshake and
me next
it was that simple.

I’d been spared
acquaintance till
then lucky
me unknowing me
grandmas grandpas
occasional uncles
far-flung cousins
dear ancients so
nearly immortal
they didn’t count as a
brush
with
death.

 

– Diane Sophrin.
  Vermont, 9.16.29

 

 

 

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