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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 07, 2018

A A A | A A A

Submitted: August 07, 2018



Apartment 209.
A Latin American Spanish phrasebook,
a bike (not used, but covered in bags),
the desk I helped him move
(a gift from coworkers
that he didn’t have the heart to deny),
a tiny old TV stacked on top of a precarious pile of books,
thriving plants sprouting from every corner,
leaves and leaflets litter the carpet underfoot.

A thin, lonesome man,
cozy navy knit
amongst a jungle of books and collectibles
(The term “collectible” used lightly;
isn’t anything one collects therefore collectible?)

Sweet, sad blue eyes
that have clearly loved too much
and been loved too little
(or at least haven’t been able to see
the love he’s been given as free.)
Blue eyes that see a cold world,
and all the beauty in trinkets.

Careful nature,
careful not to overstay his welcome
or to waste someone’s time or efforts.
Careful to not be a burden on a helpful stranger.
(But of course you’re not a burden, Ingo,
be careful with your own heart too.)

“Take care,”
I might have said.
But I think what I wanted to tell him
was to take a little less care with the world,
and a little more care with himself.

© Copyright 2019 Naomi A. Middleton. All rights reserved.

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