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Some things just come to me.
This is one of those.

Just Hang On

Img_20150723_171129by M. E. Roland24 Nov 2014

Just a sweep across
his wrinkled brow
with her gaze
settled his anxiety.
His world was shaken,
a storm embattled buoy
in the flannels
of a man.
Anything he could
stand came in the form
of a bottle...
In a mug, or a glass,
or still in the
confinements
of its original vessel...
it all went down the same.
And when his
stoopers gave way
to morning light,
he'd whisper her
name like he knew it.
As though he owned it
like he stole it,
and wished for her
peaceful, all-seeing
gaze that never judged
him. If he could
just hang on.