Almost Infectious

sown young with grains of optimism
a throng of high-pitched voices giggle
their vocal cords will change
sequestered in my studio
their party is in the other room
separated by more than a door
as these teens will be one day
the hands stroking the keys have seen hard time
the eyes, have witnessed much
how can they have so much to laugh about
when they see each other almost every day
I hear the brightness of their skin
I taste the scent of possibility
almost infectious
ah, the teen years
for a moment, I’d kill to return
until I remember
I did a lot of dying back then
I’m glad for the door
Frank Sinatra and I can get cozy
I’ll continue writing with the hands and eyes that have been so good to me
all these years…

Caroline Hands Crossed

Caroline Hands Crossed

my lovely, delicate daughter, Caroline

 

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