He stares from the front,
in Edwardian bloomers,
a midnight coat of wrinkles and
a boy’s bowtie that dips to the left.

She stands next to him,
hidden under an enormous ribbon,
drowning in a heavy Sunday dress
with a waist that drops.

He doesn’t reach for her,
instead, he puts his hand behind
his back as if this act will
break the twin connection.

I don’t know this girl frozen
in age spots but I love the woman
who lived her life. The other,
I know only from this moment.

He lives on stained paper
from decades of yesterdays,
a fading reminder of
a part of you I didn’t know.

Susan Stone



Winter Comes



cold’s bony fingers
point to last years harvest
shivering in translucent coats,
soldiers left for dead

Susan Stone copyright 2017

Kind Strangers

etsy4x6bwwindowlv9995051Kind strangers,

pockets of nice talk,

big eyes, pretty face,

sad, a world of wants,

spent time tooting your horn

to kind strangers.

(The photo art was created from a window display at Crystals in Las Vegas.)