Civility, by Terry Slaughter

Of note,

Civility is a thing unto

itself to be cherished

Like Grandma’s old stories

You will understand, But,

only later.

It must be loved,

Nurtured,

Dressed, washed, fed,

Or it will grow legs and

Walk out

Or wings

And fly away.

It does not need us We need it.

Lest we douse ourselves

in gas And

set ourselves,

And everything around

us, to flame.

Then, only the memory will remain.

Civility….