It wasn't often that I came
And still methodically
I enter once
Every week passing
It's always mid afternoon
Fully in light is the
Day outside this chaos
When I come, my smile
Welcomes itself in-but that is
All, nothing else
A single small girl
Is waiting-together we
Maze our way into the
Orange room with a solid
Round wood table
A miniature hound trails
Behind-the usual symptoms
Until my hand grasp a chair
I'd like to call it mine
It is wood, sturdy
And I see him then
His gruff stature hung in
The next room shadowing a
Running sink
And so we meet
I long to say
But his voice remains
A mystery
The girl nudges my elbow
It is time to begin
Another glance -
The sink was left dripping
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