Charity Begins at Home
They met in a secondhand bookshop
And said many secondhand things,
Exchanging, first, meaningful verses
And, later, eternity rings.
Each book that they gave to each other
Held words that they wished they had used
To articulate all those deep feelings
The passage of time then diffused.
For now she has gone beyond reaching,
Their life-lines are quite out of touch,
And the words she’d inscribed on the flyleaves
No longer can resonate much
If at all – so he packs with their credo
[The carefully framed Gestalt prayer]
Those books and the crumbling joss-sticks
[Patchouli still hangs in the air]
For every thing there is a season:
Till next time, he’d reached a fullstop.
He’d cut out her words from flyleaves.
The rest’s for the charity shop.
Page(s) 19
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