I looked through you.
I spoke to myself.
You seemed an imposter.
Like a Koons Balloon Dog.
I saw your despair.
Irritation in your eyes.
Your frail hands wrung in worry.
And your legacy rose up in smoke.
You spoke softly.
Under our umbrella.
Your hand clasped mine.
I heard your soft sigh through this touch.
copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney
postscript
Link to image of Koons Balloon Dog.
Umflop 