I want to feel the breeze blowing passed the bustling streets and the trees
where the leaves shake like natural chimes,
leaving each moment with a space for beat.
Beneath the heat is a cool wind with a spirit made of music.
I sit alone
or atleast with a sense of loneliness and sorts.
The nights are long and restless.
The days are restless and short.
Rust builds to the left of me,
coating a public bbq pit.
To my right,
a tree leans over me
watching me write
and right before me is a white dog
sniffing around.
“Lost
or just finding yourself?”
We ask
one another.
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