drifter

from where we began, where we are and to where we are going
passed the hills we used to see from the distance
and electric lights decorated by dangling shoes
of bygone strangers and friends
we’ve taken our clothes off and swam in rivers and streams
run through fields and hopped on trains
we have walked a thousand steps
sung terribly along those roads

everything is changing and still the same
it is still us and not us
we are still alive
we are still fine

we have nothing to remember except
the names on our back and the beating of a heart
what lay behind was amazing and what lies ahead we cannot know
there is only here and now, where we are

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Little Fears

Tales of whimsy, humor and courgettes

unbolt me

the literary asylum

The Bipolar Writer

James Edgar Skye

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