After noticing signs of a habit put aside
I posed a question to myself—a window gazer
The question stayed in my rough-draft notebook
A year or two later, I wrote it as a poem
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But this story was delivered to her sympathetic ear It tells me how someone's dream was interrupted We hold onto dreams by filaments as fine as hairs When it comes time for wielding scissor blades May we never turn them against anyone else May we take care of our own - - -A fine poem based on keen observation and sensitive portrayal through a sympathetic heart.
Denis, this is totally fascinating and well told. I love how you describe your daughter, the lady with the chestnut curls, the conversations. Your daughter is evidently as observant and interested in other people as you are. The coincidence is quite astonishing. I find your conclusion about the scissors very skillful and unexpected. An excellent poem.