In my nighttime imagining, I am a child
of seven or eight at home watching my
mom and dad. Mom is on the couch
reading her novel. Dad, in his favorite
chair with the news paper, smoking
his pipe. The Half-and-Half Tobacco
smoke sweetly streams through the
amber light and white living room air.
I look up from my drawing and for
the moment am content and secure.
No friction,no fighting, no words,
just a mellow glow, sweet pipe aroma,
mom, dad and I. The settled in peace
and quiet. And for the moment, not a
worry or care of which I am aware.
None of us have begun what is yet
to come. What else am I to know?
I am but a child at home, seven or
eight years old.
-30-
Chris Hanch 6-28-2022
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