Catch & Release, a poem by Vicki Hill

You chased, not really to catch me
Then began to store in your creel
Not ready to love, but be ‘in love’
Or the opposite way to feel.

As years flew away, often
Days were good, but many bad
Did I know have a clue what to do
After 35 golden years I’d had?

Apparently not: you quit speaking.
Strain? It seemed what you desired
Until a medical condition for me
Long recovery left me so tired

So much at rest I could assess–
My reality: I’d become chaser
You had already quit the game as
Caregiver/host: all else ‘eraser’

It came today in my waking dream
Clad in just a beach towel awaking
You’d reversed behavior, lifestyle
Leaving me isolated, alone, quaking

My warning indeed to cut all ties
Return surprise package delivery,
Cancel visit plans, your return here;
Step into shallows, swim again: free!

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