my neighbors
f our brain is wood, they are termites,
They devour the oak, beech, pine and even the redwood,
They are determined to reduce our dreams to dust,
our tables, our beds, our furniture, even our love in forest
If our brain is wood, they are termites,
The poet must resemble exotic woods to
not be eaten.
Copyright © Yann Rolland | Year Posted 2024
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