Thursday, June 26, 2014


They laughed at her for being slow, but I followed her for miles
She barely made a sound
I stood to face her but could not, she smiles
I sit beside her on the ground
As I behold her weathered form, and lines that say ancient
She gazes silently around
I ask where she's going, and she says, "patient"
There's the calling of the hound

"Walking slow, she says, I see more
Talking slow, I say less and hear more"
But where are you going, I asked
"I told you, patient, that it is where
I am waiting here," she said, then walked away

Calvin "Cheese Grits" Yerke


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