Pathways and Recliners



crumbles of sidewalk


and bits of sand


have contributed to misty mornings,


in deep purple woods,


and salty evenings in


far off red maple trees. we could


sit here and


speak of dusty paths


washed down with the sullen clouds


of that forever skyline


or spin stars into old lampshades


amid watered down billows of rain.



but nothing would fill the scores in kitchen chairs



or the silence of a worn green recliner.




Interesting... so much so, I had to create an account to let you know how interesting your poem was


So honored ;)

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