Two for the Price of One

(In response to a prompt about building up a poem with an extra word in every line. Rather than attempting to sustain this indefinitely, I made some variations.)

Practical Problems

Even

someone old

with mild dementia

and limited leg movement

can get behind your back

to dab disinfectant on insect bites

or scratch those pesky itches for you,

the ones you just can't quite reach yourself.

Alas,

that person

has moved on 

and gone beyond limitations —

his own, that is — freed.

Of course I'm glad for him;

wouldn't have had him linger and suffer.

But I'm left with itches I can't scratch.

Earth Walker

Deliberately

she describes

a huge arc,

with long, slow steps

which she paces in silence.

'I have two days,' she says,

'in which to listen and find within

the pattern that I must trace, walking here,

imprinting an invisible symbol on this piece of land.

It will be a portal, hidden here in these hills.'

Hidden there in her hills, we leave her practising intently.

There is nothing we can see to do there,

nothing that might help her in any way.

Our inner vision does not show us

such images, nor can we hear;

not as she hears, anyway. 

Sometimes, though, I wonder

who traverses portals —

entering, or 

leaving?

Submitted for Poets United's Verse First: One Word at a Time
Also submitted for dVerse Poetics — The Art of Letting Go