poem: the lake – 11/03/22

amazing though is this air I breathe
wanton duck melodies from the lake
make me sing
their quacks and quacks speak of more
than what’s implied by them
with a dear friend around the lake I
take a turn and admire ducks, smile at happy mothers,
children, and puppies with men.
I am animated, she listens with quiet calm,
by her side, I need no longer need take her arm,
for days of physical support are not near,
there’s nothing to help me, nor there to fear,
while anxiety can burden, it’s not featuring here.
Our friendship, o’er long years,
with gaps, sliced by angled swords,
the silences lingered, anger had been present,
could be heard,
but through it all, a line of devotion and loyalty,
illness an immutable thread
but never each other’s enemies.
She will always be my friend, she’d said,
words which touch me now and blessed me then,
a slight choking of the throat at gratitude from a
wondrous, forgiving woman,
for friendship with myself, would not have been
the easiest to keep sealed,
my angered mouth bubbled over at times,
but she remained with great devotion still.
I am not a goddess, I am not someone to be revered,
I am not a higher being, I am simply myself –
and when in the mood, other characters,
so self-assured,
but in the end, I am me, myself, and
there’s nothing from that which can decline,
to some I am the apple of their eye,
and to some, they wish for me to evade their current times.
I’ll focus on my loved ones, and kind friends such as she,
there until the end, together, even in absence and solitude,
her momentary absence not a mystery.
I will and do understand her occasional need to pull away,
gaze at the lake, with quietness away from my chirping
and tunes,
a moment’s peace, a mindful exercise,
then returning by my side for the conversation
to be properly seen through.
© 2022 Lauren M. Hancock Poetry and Prose. All rights reserved.
March 2022
Photo taken by myself.


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