I have noticed
his face has grown longer
his pace slower
he is but a gray wisp of breath
once a bold
western jay of a man
his call harsh
scratchy
he feared no one
extended his hand to all
hi
I'm Harley
recognition lighted eyes
strangers took the hand of this boy man
listened to tales
of when he was in the blanket
smiled with indulgence
now the word is on the window
painted
blocking sunlight
he sits quietly
hands
large wet moth wings on his knees
eyes
pale daylight moons
Harley is leaving us
and does not know it
but I know
and I long to sit with him
my arm about him
cradle him
as when he was in the blanket
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