Thursday, April 18, 2013

On my Morning Constitutional

I was almost run over by a man with a disregard for the Law of the Lights, but I crossed the street safely nevertheless. The blue bus bench sat upright and cheerily flirted. I nodded. I walked along the park where ducks lined the path like parade goers in feathered hats fluttering hello. The red roses rose and roared my name in celebration. An unleashed Doberman Killer wanted a bite out of me.He lunged and bared his teeth. I screamed and scared him, surprisingly, and he wandered away. I caught my breath and bearings beside the house I could never afford to buy her. All those years we would drive by in wonder -

But something shook me back to 47. Death poked me in the ribs. He insists I pay attention. Sometimes I do. I wasn't run over or devoured because he poked me, caught me, scared the dog. He will always protect me until my last breath. That's his job. He is a friend, a stoic, patient gentleman. He has a dark side, but what friend could be completely accepting of my own? He loves me for who I am. That's why the roses know my name. They see the gentleman at my knees. Roar, roses. I'm 47, and my husband thinks I'm beautiful.

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