7 Travelogues

The noise,
The noise,
The melancholy white noise
Write me home.

How can we bear the beauty of this
Small fish in the reeds,
Alone, for such a
Short moment,
Her rippled splash gone.

It is not seemly for me to hunt
When the softness leaves me too quickly,
Where is my husband in the
Hunt so I can tend fires?
Winter comes.

Our eyes met when your sleeve caught on the nail.
You removed it and we shared a
Laugh over the victory.
Your puffy face and old sweater
Looked as if you would have been
A comfortable friend instead of a
Stranger with no strings attached.

One crumb left
Eat it
And leave me full

Tea leaves and dreams
Giggles and screams,
Don’t read them wrong.
Become the dreamer,
Become the dream.
Drink the tea.

She kindly left
The back door of the mansion ajar
For the Lost One
Who could not enter
Through the front.

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