Two greyheads on a TV set
Holding and folding invisible words –
My childhood image of having arrived.

Two greyheads nodding, smiling,
Disagreeing with gentle taps to hearts –
I’ve always wanted those sweaters.

And those notebooks with unfastened leaves.
And those fountain pens with teething chips.
And those reading glasses that sat afar
And slipped on noses unaccustomed.

Two greyheads of lives well-lived,
Well-examined, storyfull –
That magical phrase, “Reminds me of…”

And that one, “It will come to me….”
And that one, “Where were we again?”