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Wednesday, May 22, 2024

The Doorbell Rings

The Doorbell Rings

If I had a doorbell
My eleven year old self
Would ring it while I was reading
A book by a Buddhist advisor
What do I do with the feeling
Of being interrupted
I'm expecting a visit

I discover the doorbell 
Doesn't work
Graciously inviting me
To knock hoping I'll
Come open the door
Or should I just turn
The metal know to find me

Opening I instantly recognize me
But I squint turning my head
Back and forth
Up and down
I've seen my face my whole life
But I've never seen my old face
From eyes at eleven years old

I'm fourth or fifth grade
Old me is seventy-some grade
There is instant fear
I tell him to go back only
To return tomorrow
Neither of me
Knows what to say

He/me walks down the ramp
Head lowered just a bit
I/him close the door
My eyes wide and stunned
The couch finds my back
My eyes find that book
Thus endeth the lesson 

Barry G. Wick

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