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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #2208236
Brief poem on multiple levels
Off the grid
I’m headed home
the city’s
too noisy it’s frantic
take what you need
and give the rest back
for stars and campfires and
things that go bump,
unseen rustles
In a shadow tree night
an endless path
now swept clean,
I’m headed home
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2208236