
Somewhere
That’s the way of things, isn’t it,
the past.
Always waiting there.
It’s a long shadow, like
boarded-up windows to keep out
the sun and salt air,
or like cold rooms where you
don’t dare breathe because
the air is damp
and rotting,
or where trees you knew as a child
are long dead, and new ones are
growing in their place,
where mist hangs on the wrong side
of windowpanes,
or when your parents are dead,
and you look for them in some
vanished star, because
that’s the way of things, isn’t it,
of childhood, of watery shadows
that reach somewhere back
into your past.
#SOCS Stream of Consciousness Saturday “Where” Photo by Marco Bianchetti on Unsplash. Shared with @Experimentsinfc #APoemADay on Twitter ©Misky 2021
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