image from googlepics.com
Entry 47: The place where the missing years were kept. Referenced in several dreams but never located. Witnesses disagree whether it was a room, a season, or a river. Its absence remains unusually well preserved. I traced old roads through sleep, past mile markers erased by weather. Something had gone on living without me. At dawn, the map contained one less horizon.
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.
