Slowly flows the Chenango, past where
the old men
once swam as boys, emptying into
Chesapeake Bay,
near where once lads chose to save and
spend the day
to empty old/new stories about it had
been long when.
The legend talks kept on coming right
and left with
some differences of memory between the
old males
and joint eyeball rolling among the
listening females
while seeing dead wine soldiers
dropping 5th by 5th.
The tone of the meeting shifts to
remembering loss
of other friends and family and how
they're loved,
operating with surgical precision, hand
and gloved,
so that tears wouldn't come to pass as
evening's boss.
They laughed lots, thanking God for
time well spent,
and how blessed they had been for what
years meant.
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