From Where the Kudzu Grows

Friendships or acquaintances?  God grant me the wisdom to distinguish between the two.

They came and went over the years.  Names, places, remembered in bits and pieces.

Things I thought would last–didn’t.  Things never expected to last, persevered.

Was the glass half-full or half-empty?  Who cared?  In either case, the glass was not full, and was less than adequate.

Her beauty slapped me in the face–hard as a dead fish.  Covered in a kudzu gown, with roots that still dripped dirt. Beauty an illusion that came from within.  Reality never knocked–always let itself in.

Author: warturoadam77p

70 year old married retired communications worker with three grown children, transplanted from the Midwest to the sunny Gulf Coast.

2 thoughts on “From Where the Kudzu Grows”

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