My children love me in the abstract.


Abstract

They love in the abstract, these children
And I don’t mean by that
those children
or their children
or other children
or children in general
But my children, these kids who are not kids
but adults
grown,
with lives
that are not my life

Years are passing now,
not months or days
but years
that slide easily one to another,
with no words
Becoming natural not to speak
The unexpected thing
no longer expected
Someone now would have take a shocking
leap out of context
Them or me

Poetry Collection: The Smell of Tweed and Tobacco
This poem is included in
Jim Freeman’s
poetry collection

THE SMELL OF TWEED
AND TOBACCO

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