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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield


Indulge me.
I look at pansy baskets
and mourn my mother.
They made her face smile,
glowing with the wings
of butterflies.
Every morning I see a ship
on the wall,
in its own sea,
where my father put it,
in water the color of deep dawn,
of blue coal,
its sail filled with white clouds.
My father showed me the world
through an artist’s eyes.

On the piano,
a man and woman
look into the room
from their photograph,
and huddle like children,
watching Mary play.
They have whimsical smiles,
as if listening.
The music is for them.
My family and friends
live in this house,
all together,
in different rooms.
We have not forgotten each other.
I am grateful.
I am happy.

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