The Innisfree Poetry Journal
www.innisfreepoetry.org
by Ruth Z. Deming
THE MEN WHO LOVE ME
The men who love me, Codgers mostly, call my name As I walk by. Their voices rising in jubilation as I pass by. I'm young enough still and I've got good legs. My fresh mowed Grass shows I work hard like they do.
There is Bill's house, alive with light and movement, Though he's not there. We remember poor Bill, Cocoon'd in a nursing home No use to anyone after five-hour surgery to Scoop out a tumor from his brain, Big as a grapefruit they say, Can that be true, Bill?
His house resounds with life, A ceiling fan atwhirl as Bill's grown boy throws off his shirt & comes barechested to the window, While Bill's car, like a faithful Schnauser, Stands sentry in the drive awaiting word.
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