like an old friend
with stories to tell
we sit together
remembering our past
associations
both together
and apart
we never met
but knew each other intimately
what you wrote spoke to me
and I read you
a connection was made
though years apart
having made your acquaintance
after your death
a miscalculation on my part
but you still speak
to me now
through your work
I carry
in every household I’ve lived
you have been there
and from time to time
like say now
I open you up
and continue the conversations
forever grateful
for having you
in my life
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Leonard Durso 
Lovely . . . 🙂
Thank you, Mary.
You’re welcome.
I would have dropped by sooner, but discovered yesterday that notifications of new posts on your blog–and others–were inadvertently turned off.
Thanks. You are welcome any time.
Beautiful.
I’m glad you liked it.
I feel the same about Ray Bradbury-though when I feel in love with his work-he was alive. Funny how one author really resonates with a soul. M.E.
I’m glad that you could identify with the feeling. These writers we bond with become like another part of ourselves.
Precious …
Thank you, Isabella. I return to him often.
🙂 I can understand why, his poems are treasures. Yours too by the way:-)
Thank you for that kind comment, Isabella.
❤