Borrowed memory,
teach me.
Little man,
standing in the dip
the darker deep
underneath my eyes.
Old shoes and a sky like
one million salts on a chalkboard.
Everything laid out before me,
the earth speaking.
Peer out at the world, little,
see the waves without the sea,
skin still warm from day,
we touch the moonless night.
Author notes
this is a borrowed memory (obviously) from my dad that I elaborated on.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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You know I should like boycott commenting your poetry. *crosses arms and pouts*
BUT I STILL LOVE IT!!! *cries and runs to you, clinging you to herself*

