Connections Through Time

My daughter and my grandmother share a name. They share a connection which words can’t do justice even though it is a word that connects them. Watching them is watching life at two spectrums, polar opposites, and yet they share something in common which is visible to the eye. I can only watch.

Sunday Night – A Poem

I wrote this while in college. Many years ago.

we go get coffee sunday night
we sit outside under the heat light
when it rains we stay dry
people pass and they say hi

sometimes we study, sometimes we don’t
sometimes we should, but most times we won’t
people all around us smoke
the smell wafts by and makes us choke

we sit around and talk a lot
we take small sips cause the coffees hot
the clock strikes ten and its time to go
but we’ll be back next week you know