Deep Pockets

His affable vernacular

invariably bucks me up.

A bowl of tortellini soup

after trudging heavy miles

through long snow in Canada.

A pair of running shoes

that fit like best friendship

with its vigintillion private jokes.

A friendship as easily worn

as supple running shoes.

Cardigan with a hole or two.

Missing button. Deep pockets.





Poetry by A Bard with No Name The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 11 times
Written on 2025-11-27 at 10:05

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