Yard Sale of Thoughts

When he giggles,

I get reeled in.

Hair like silver net,

an easily entangled friend.

A splash of wit, after so many dry conversations.

There’s more than one pole in the pond,

I tell him,

but none with bait I’m interested in.

So what if he’s old enough to be my father,

I’ll wade a little farther;

his smile chums the water.

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