Thursday, July 13, 2017

The walk

Between broken cobblestones,
and shattered wedding china,
a discarded oak cane 
soaks in the mist.
I walk
for lichens,
ferns and bread crumbs.

An empty leash pendulates,
as clocks unwind
on clasped hands. 
Rust hollows
a proud bust.
I return-
famished,
having fed that thing,
called hope.

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