She walks toward the librarian,
pausing, breathless, from
the long climb to the library.

Outside the fog hides
the golf course,
inside the library, shelter, warmth.

She says to the librarian,
“Here, first time,”
pointing around the room.

She says,
“Show me, please, this book,”
pointing to the paper in her hand.

Printed neatly in ink
the paper says,
“Grief and Depression.”

She says,
“Help me, please,
if you can.”

“When you can do this for me?”
“You can do this for me now?”


About trillium24

“Art is a lie that makes us realize truth at least the truth that is given us to understand ... " Pablo Picasso
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