This Is Not a Landscape
At a time
Where
I planted more seeds
Than thoughts
I could barely plant myself
My blinds
Were silken dyed cloths
Magpies and swallows
Knew it
Something wanted to die
In my arms
Rarely to grasp
Like an airy arrow
Brief
Yet heavy like a fossiled oak
A spark
appeared
This was you
A familiar sound
Which could only be
Found
Copyright © Nina Thoughtscape | Year Posted 2021
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