Return (Poem)

Trail as pale as the garden
stroking the soft sunset as it
whips and winds around your
broken ankles.

Tipping over into hole
wanting more than the dirt has to offer
letting go of even
mineral.

Fur frolicking soft
into hand, and
foot stepping beyond
the boundaries of broken
unable to fully grip the ground
within a single step.

Leaping,
you cherish.
Landing, you are bound.
You cross the road from
lip to thought
and all that is known
at once becomes lost.

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