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Let Go

I see them all standing there

Mother behind her favorite chair

The dipping sun casts images on the wall

Exaggerating all

Like my little brother used to do

The past casts

Indelible shadows

On my now

When I write

I am too tame.

In the vice of habit,

I inhabit ground ploughed too long

Too often

Seeds wither and die

Words emerge like tired rabbits

Spending their last hop

Limping across my neatly lined page.

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1 Kommentar

28. Jan. 2022

I beg to differ! I find your writing full of playful surprises and unexpected turns, dear quietly wild man xoxooxox

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