BOB

 

First thing every morning
I think of you making coffee
San Francisco strong, and pray
that a few of our wild gods
go with you on city sidewalks.

I fill the paper filter
that holds the grounds together
with one less scoop than you,
then add a half
to remember you by.

 

2 responses to “BOB

  1. Missing him already. Beautiful words, John.

    Liked by 2 people

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