Memory
Where has the grass gone, juicy,
Green, shiny as if covered with a transparent varnish.
Where did I go,
Chained to the coolness of the life-giving carpet,
Sprinkled with the glare of the sun, straight from the blue sky.
Where is the flower?
In which I lived like something winged and inconspicuous.
Copyright © Mari Bond | Year Posted 2023
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