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POEM: Buttered Toast

Buttered Toast
for Denise

I eat buttered toast
and think of my aunt
who is actually my cousin,
who almost certainly
wouldn’t know me
if she saw me today,
not because I’ve changed –
though I have –
but because her mind
has exchanged the present
for the hazy glow of the past,
where we all sit
around the dining room table
while the future
stretches out forever,
golden.

/ / /

22 March 2025
Charlottesville VA

Published in My poems Poem-A-Day 2025 Poetry

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