it is a rarity that I can see him.
when he is not locked in his study,
or locked in his master bedroom,
or hard at work doing God-knows-what,
I can find him on the balcony.
he smokes a cigarette and leans
against the railing with a small
smile playing against the corner of his lips.
and when I look to where he is looking,
I see children playing tag in the vast meadow,
or women sitting on the patio drinking martini's
or a couple holding hands and laughing-
I think I'm seeing what he wants me to see.
I think I'm seeing what he wants to be.
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