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At An Old Man's Recollection From His Early Youth
A poet loved my mother as much as I did;
and as much as her parents hater her
(their parents, too). All of them wanted to be rid
of all the problems they had to endure.
But all of that came from her heroin addiction
that started, probably, as an escape
from her remembrance of an adolescent rape
(the perpetrator walked without conviction).
That poet loved my mother as much as I did.
Their romance did not have much time amid
their circumstances, but I am quite certain of
this: those few days brought her poetic love.
The proof is words in his lines' conveyance---
their measure is beyond a hunter's cadence.
Starward
[jlc]
