A Slip of the Tongue

by Robert Halleck

In our first year I

slipped twice and used

the name of my old love

before you came and

gave me back my life.

I saw the hurt in your eyes,

the question if what we had

was fading. If she would be

back and you gone. You

asked if I still loved you.

I answered, I'm still here.

by Robert Halleck

I sit and watch

his chest rise

slowly then sink

again as he approaches

the 11^th hour of life.

He's alone but for me

who knows nothing

of him but the need

to be there so alone

is not a modifier of die.

Robert Halleck is a retired banker living in Del Mar, California with his muse, Della Janis. He fills his days with poetry, hospice volunteering, golf, and autocross racing. He has authored three volumes of poetry. Recent poems have appeared in The San Diego Poetry Annual, The Paterson Literary Review, The Galway Review, The Lake, and Halcyon Days.