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loss of a constant

a one line poem on nostalgia to my father

Photo by Sabine R on Unsplash

my father awoke
before sunrise,
would sit drinking coffee,
while chain smoking cigarettes
watching birds on the birdfeeder.
these were constants,
safe bets:
until my father
existed no longer.




Closed to new submissions starting June 1, 2021

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Rhonda Marrone

Rhonda Marrone

Poetry and Essay Writer. Be Open Editor. Lover of all things nature. You can most likely find me sitting under a tree ,watching birds, writing poems.

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