Sitting in your sunken sitting-room,
we smoke cigars, sitat ease,
listening to loud fond music boom:
classical or jazz, both please;
air scented by Cuban fumed cloak,
you cough, clear throat of croak.
Re-welding years of lost connections,
kitchen-sink dramas once provoked,
paralysis cured, absent your corrections:
time-short talk, not tear-choked;
we both ask questions more kindly,
soft words now bless both benignly.
Shall we read some scripture
from shelved bible rarely read,
or view snaps, poignant those pictures,
shall we share blessed wine and bread;
long silences due to daytime sleeping
– which visit will be our final meeting?