Annabelle
He was on his knees praying.
Where he had been before and where he was going next
Was up to him.
But he needed guidance.
Which is why he was on his knees.
There is love in everything,
He thought to himself.
He let this notion quiet his body;
Entomb him.
Twigs pressed against his kneecaps.
They were gifts as well,
He told himself.
He got up, then,
After the heat began to bother him,
And walked alongside the brook
And back to the farm house.
He was suffering from amnesia.
He had no memory of who he was,
Of where he belonged.
He knew only his very next footstep,
And the smiling girl in the window.
Annabelle.
Copyright © Matt Caliri | Year Posted 2008
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