As I roll out of bed
with words fully formed
I'm writing for someone,
not writing for anyone
As words flow
from the depths
of a lifetime.
Though someone is nearby.
Thoughts, mean one thing
Written, mean everything
Though not for everyone
someone is nearby.
Somehow, the dust
that rolled around my creaky wooden floors,
gathering all the tears and laughter
that paced its planks,
finally takes a shape
never to ravel or unravel
in quite the same way,
yet formed, swept, and thrown
into a different space, a new space
lets clarity creep in and reveal itself,
and reassurance, for just a moment,
a precious moment,
knows your face.
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