sitting dreaming wondering
about
you
youth the truth
I think I have lost
my
head in a thousand buckets of sand
buried beneath the
desert

landscapes of longing
whisp across the sky
a hint of what we really do not see

I hear the cry “mommy” and I wonder
do I go
do I stop writing
or is it this truth that
keeps me separated
from the reality
of what lies upstairs
waiting for me
curly locks and all

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