Before first

Borne on an orphaned wind,

Sometimes to forget what it means

Cornered in a room with no trees,

Where a breakfast table rests empty,

Trapped between two scored voices,

One to point at an unforgiven issue,

Another to tap your shoulder to say,

Out that door, get on your own,

No help be running your way from now,

So never forget, you’re just another orphan,

Homeless to time’s estranged end’s beginning,

Writing on dust covered glass and windows,

Waiting for a fresh breeze to empty the first summer rains,

To consider a dwindling penciled return before first.

2 responses to “Before first

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