Love

Holding hands,

An elderly couple

Walks slowly through the park.

Like a bee hovering momentarily over flowers,

The couple stops now and then

To share comments about this and that,

Savoring the nectar,

Then moves on to the next attraction,

Unhurried, self-contained, free.

 

All around them, single persons

Clutch their cell phones,

Ever impatient to be elsewhere.

All Poetry — Henry Barnard

My Story

 

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