A woman sits about ten feet from me, she is the same age as my Grammy was in this picture.
I could easily concoct a story about her: what she did,
where she lived, who she loved. But it is enough,
right now, to watch her as her aide places dessert
in a bowl. Strawberry rhubarb tart. The woman,
like my grandmother at some point, scoops,
tastes and says "Mmmm" to every single bite.
Like nothing else ever mattered as much
as this sweet taste does upon her tongue.
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