steps...
slow...measured...Morse
Code infused...
like tap shoes on
the dance floor
clickety-click,
slide, clackety-clack
overcome by the
scent of lily of the valley
that wafts through
the air
just around the
corner from where he stops
yet the scent is
strong enough
to bring back
memories of his grandmother
a pint-sized bottle
of vigor and vinegar
who made sure his
clothes were always pressed
for school, and
later, for college
before she took one
last breath
and became a memory
in a tin-type photo
that leaned against
his diploma on his dresser
and now life is one
tap-dance after another
yet the message
never changes
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