When the wind blows I walk away
deep in my huge blue duffel coat
from a life reduced by two thirds
and crammed into a hopeless house.
Books but not so many
the same meals round a smaller table
scaled-down conversations about the future
one unhappy dog.
The wind catches my bare hands
pulls up the hairs on my arms
I shiver as I walk and do not know
where I am going to go.
2 comments:
Oh dear. Sounds like parent trouble. I sympathise.
Yup, Thanks.
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