Ground Clouds
Mist between the pavement cracks,
fog patches sew the sky loosely together.
Walking, talking to my self like a crazy person;
it's words that do this
words as thin as a damp haze
words that float in a thought maze.
Back home
I will wring out the sponge in my head,
say something to the deaf walls,
listen for echoes.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
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