on your back porch
 you do not see mountains 
or ocean waves
the town of Falerna 
or the promenade to the sea;

there's no distance 
or depth
in this view.
I watch you
sitting -
looking out at 
the garden you built
on the land that's your own.

Is it the sustenance,
the stability 
you see?
Is it the 
the existence -
are you seeing your reflection?
Answers were never 
in your words.

I find them
 in that small space
the tomato stalks
and sunflowers

He looks out
at the plot of land
the one that
 offered the grandest of gifts.

I don't tell him in words;
that's not our shared language.

 he gave us life 
 and in return
 i lived.  

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