© 2018  Kelsey Cronin

    #3

    August 24, 2018

    All the page corners you folded

    All the little wonders you showed me

     

    Sterile halls and careless over-sedation

    Eyes glazed from too much medication

     

    Peace in the mystery

    and the litany of history

     

    Gentle blue eyes and the wildfire in your mind

    Healing wounds that are itchy and poems that almost rhyme

     

    The depths of something I'll never understand

    More than you can hold in your own two hands

     

    The moving line where water meets shore

    And when you can't remember what you came into the room for

     

    All these

    so many more

     

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