Tuesday, February 18, 2020

Here and Now


Over the years I have told many a story with
my poetry. These have not been presented
in chronological order, rather randomly as one
might select books on a shelf at the library.

In one I am five or six years old talking about
my very first best friend. In another, I am a teen-
ager seeking a new adventure. Mostly though,
I portray adult experiences, more recent happen-

ings which I can relate with some experience
or thoughtful questioning. And now, there is old
age with all its losses and limitations. I write
about time and pain, one I have a limited amount

which remains, and the other which is bound to
plague me till the end of my days. Oh, I go back
and forth in my span of time. One day I am young
again, the next contemplating the residual of days,
           
who knows? The spine of the book in my mind
at this moment reads, Here and Now. I’m sitting
in my recliner relatively comfortable. A Liszt
piano sonata plays on Music Choice TV. The

old dog asleep at my feet; the young one waiting,
at the ready to bark at the next noise outside. Lazy,
late, February afternoon. Before and after no longer
matter. No immediate expectations from me. I am

nearly seventy-three, and as the aforementioned
reads, Here and Now. I'm writing, and I’m just fine.

                                             -30-

Chris Hanch 2-18-2020




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