Distance and Return and Potatoes and Pies

Is trepidation
on such holiday dealings
but one such shared thought

Am I among the
few, or the many, many
to not take lightly

the givings of all,
to me. To feed me. To drink.
To sit in quiet.

I let it be lightly, mostly as it prods on and on.
But in a drop of a moment, I’m aware of the good things.
It’s the long lost, distant man meets his love.

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Distance and Return and Potatoes and Pies

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