8 a.m., the old couple strolls by my house
on their way back from the beach
as they do every day at precisely this time.
Watching them pass by
is as much a part of my morning ritual
as drinking coffee, raising the blinds
feeding the animals and showering.
They wear white hats when the sun beats down
big parkas and boots on cold days like today.
They’re well past seventy
the man holds his wife’s arm gently
in case she slips on the icy street.
They have no idea they’re watched each day
no idea someone they’ve never met
thinks of them
whenever she hears the word
About the Poet:
Sheila Wellehan’s poetry is featured or forthcoming in Chiron Review, The Fourth River, Poetry East, Tinderbox Poetry Journal, Yellow Chair Review, and elsewhere. She lives in Cape Elizabeth, Maine. Visit her online at www.sheilawellehan.com .
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