Hoping To Be Heard

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.

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