Why am I feeling all this great emotion?
Perhaps I am thinking of poor Mary,
Moving away after so long living
In a quietly familiar and convenient place.
Mary, audibly rocking and rocking in the
Same chair above me as she aged into invisibility…
And soon I too will leave this same place.
For how long did I live with illusions,
Locking away all transitory possibilities
And realities and choosing instead to
Dwell inside mercurial fantasies and
Interior delusions and then grounding a still life?
Now the fading obstacles hardly matter.
The grey heavy details carved and set in stones
Have been kicked away by newer shades
Of sharp pastels that do not even belong
To me in my particular smallness.
Fog is moving in from the Hudson River,
Passing over yesterday and all the
Layered stories and everything
That came… before.
Marjorie J. Levine © March 18, 2023
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