West

If I weren’t so tired
I might tell you
how lost I’ve been
in thought of late,
or how I’ve learned
to walk again
to appreciate
my legs I think
even more now
than your eyes,
they ever did,
or how now-a-days,
I spend most
my lunch hour
at the window
watching, wishing
for escape, because,
to be honest,
my thoughts have been
so disjointed
with my bones
now held in place,
that I know it’s only
a matter of time
before the winds
swing the other way.

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