I was reminded
of the timeworn steps
in the tower of Notre Dame,

how countless footfalls
over hundreds of years
carved out smooth depressions.

This, too, is a kind of love,
the way we polish our stony lives
with a million trudging steps.

You throw your arms
around my neck, clinging to
the hump of my broad back.


About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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