Well this is bloody wild!

Dave randomly became part of my muse as I was writing the poem I posted today. I often pictured he and myself in the cafe.

As fate would have it, his post this morning is exactly the deeper pattern about life passages I was trying to capture in the poem. It’s as if Substack were the cafe corner booth, and I tried to wow Dave with my words, and he humbles me with his life.

So if you want a clue as to why the old man don’t speak, read Dave’s reflection/revelation

*here’s a hint:

“Now I’m in my seventies and determined not to live in the past but to hold it all” - Dave Williams