Tuesday


such things as almonds.

Painting memories with chalk and skipping stones like I’m five
I’ve told my story once and I shouldn’t have to say it again
When the swaying of trees and the memories of scrapped knees
Leaves and wind chimes bring back my young times
On top of a fence, the owl sits and just observes the air
Laying minds to rest and sipping cold coffee, the world needs
a hug.

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