The Wandering

The Wandering

Drink the
Bitter waters
Of our shores .
I no longer recognize
My home .
The doors
white painted
Handles,locks
All changed
in a darkness filled
with only wandering
stray cat
I wish to cry
but I cannot
while others watch
in pillowed semi sleep
from once lit
sacred libraries,
now turned shaded
bedroom windows.

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2 thoughts on “The Wandering

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