When You Sang

I knew you were an angel, old man.
The way you paused by feathers
On the sidewalk,
Or when you'd lose yourself
Staring at the clouds —
And how you did not mind
Spelling your imperfections
Out loud.
But mostly it was your voice
When you sang those
Old cowboy songs —
As though you'd traversed deserts
And heavens, always
On wild horses
That yielded to your truth.

 





E-mail: Corrine


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