Lisa
Lisa
I met you at the funeral hone
when your father lay in state.
You were no longer a teenager,
blond, sexier and alive.
I told her I had saved her
in Munich and she
agreed with a tighter hug.
I will not write of her experience
then and there.
We talked about other things
and I congratulated her for
her success.
Some secrets are best left
untold…
2 thoughts on "Lisa"
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nice vignette
you leave the reader intrigued
Thanks, Jim… A little intrigue is good for the poet in us…