No story. Benign.
Just another scar for the collection.
We walk on. Together.
The spectre never leaves so you think you will be ready when the music starts again and the dance continues.
Today there is slightly less of me again.
Let’s see what story the newly missing piece has to tell.
··· -·-· ·- ·-· · -··
My namesake.
She was circling high above me.
Floating on the updrafts.
A messenger perhaps.
Keeping her distance.
But still here.
🪶
I stand in what’s left.
The rubble silent in the grass.
Rebuilding is still within reach,
another’s hands stand ready
to relay the stone.
But I stay where I am,
for a low voice in the quiet
wonders why I’d remake
a structure that I let fall.
