I pass the old man
on his balcony.
Huge sunglasses
through which he watches
like a
diurnal owl;
the world unfolds below him.
Just like my dad liked to sit.
I don’t wipe away
my tear.
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Shawn L. Bird 
Hi Shawn…
When I click a link in the email, I’m directed to a page that says “Shawnbird.com” domain has expired. Happened on the last post, too.
Jim Stewart
We’re working on it! There were some strange issues and the techies weren’t working Easter Long Weekend. It should be sorted soon!
Nice poem, Shawn. I like the association of the old man and your father.
Thanks.
Embrace these moments.
Like embracing thistles.
Oh, those triggers. Every woman who looked like my Penny was, for a couple of years, a trigger for grief. The ebb and flow is natural, though, and the watchful spirit knows your love will never end.
Yes.
I love this! Makes me think of my own dad…
Thought I already followed you but seems to have been disconnected. Am re-following! Thanks for the recent visit to my blog.
My pleasure! Thanks for coming by!