Monday, April 28, 2025

At your own risk

I’ve hidden my real feelings in this poem
as sunsets, concrete pillars, feathers flying
feathers fallen, broken crockery with pink
flowers peering and a wooden bench under
the sun but shaded by trees. If you find any
of these speaking to you, take the conversation
forward at your own risk as I don’t claim to know
if they mean well or where they come from.

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