Comfort in an engulfing valley.
Closeness, with the option of escape.
Warmth, with the choice of
chilliness to cool down.

Laughter, from
the belly of an aging man is
no less joyous a sound than
a baby’s cooing giggle.

Curled into a
fetal ball of safety; the
protective separation of
isolated existence.

Nothing can be
taken away when it
has already been
sacrificed for another.

by Erik Shinker

8 thoughts on “Age

  1. Beautiful poem and imagery. It reminded me the time when I was looking after my great-grandfather who broke her leg and could not get off the bed. I kept her company, chatting non-stop about all sorts of things and treating her with various plants I was finding in the garden. I was around 3 years old at that time. She is long gone, but I still have sweet memories of her 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

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