The Trip

Your easiness, gentleman

like a sunset glaze over North Carolina red clay,

or the soul of an  RnB song on the tip of my tongue on a luminescent Sunday morning,

You live at the center of the butterflies,

and your lightness I wade around in the pool of my dreams to the outskirts of my mind,

where all those pretty possibilities live  in such palatial residences,

all those wealthy possibilities,

I secretly sign up to buy – to live where it’s still beyond reach,

but it’s just a visit,

and well today

I am just grateful for the trip….

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2 thoughts on “The Trip

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