"Are you the new neighbors?"
Both pink in the face
The color of embarrassment or flamingos
People tell me never to assume
But I assume that alcohol has lived in their veins
The way blood does
It has a habit of changing the face and the eyes
Glazed
I've seen this many times before
I saw it in the face of my man that sold us our home, his voice was rusty with addictions
and protective of the home as he handed over a key.
They both reach for my hand
An extention of friendship
"I'm Steve
This is my wife Patty
We are the old neighbors"
He gestures with a lazy hand toward the house
"You may be new here, but you might be here awhile...the river has a way of getting to you"
When he says this I feel something in the wind
I wonder how does it get to you?
Is it like a mold? Or a demon or a kind of food that you love?
Does it have a habit of changing the face and the eyes?
"I've been here a good 38 years..." he says as he passes, repeating our names, assuring us, he will remember them.
what will be come of us.
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Thank you so much for taking the time to say a lil sumthin! Im so grateful that you even read my words and I hope they inspire and draw you closer to Jesus!