bike poetry

a little red house

next to a willow tree

with no one home

who will greet me

 

But still I walk the path

to the door

a walk I’ve done

a million times before

 

among the dandelions

and the reeds of grass

and the longing vines

lies broken glass

 

farewell to a future

you said you could see

and goodbye to the little red house

next to the willow tree

brooklyn, 2016

 

 

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