i look at my poems
and my face yields a smile
constantly i look at past promises
and tears instantly heap inside
i know this plaque, these assurances
not lived to flower in my garden
constantly kills my cellular life
that sullenly slows my flow
hence i turn to watch justin
my grandson scribble my scrapbook
constantly looking into my face
grinning, bulldozing my moments
to sculpt a funny image
to permanently install in my heart
constantly with no consciousness
carving a memoir with my jotting
© henry victor 10.04.2011
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