He turned letters to words with gentle hands.
And then an empty mattress lined the hardwood floor.
When I remember loneliness in small cities,
I see brick lined walks with families and full tables.
There’s a wall with hope written in languages of mingled letters.
There’s tea and music and book lined walls.
But I found, folded on wooden floors, skin like paper creased into fragile objects.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
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