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