Sander Blome

An Unquiet Peace


He glides by shadowy shapes into the darkened air
Through glass sliding doors of the old familiar rest home
To find a careful seat at the patio set this warm night
And alone, while the others sleep, faces his finality.
Promised life for a few years yet, he is surprised 
At how carefree and unconcerned he seems.
Tonight the thoughts are fleeting; he lights
A cigarette and wheezes in the humid air.

—Sander Blome

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