home

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Pia

home
never really rooted
warm, gentle hands rescued me
youth spent chasing birds
eating grass
wind in my whiskers

home
always a new doorway
forever familiar sunlight
same warmth all these years
drinking fish’s water
fingers scratch my ears

home
never really rooted
warm, gentle hands hold me
old age spent peeking out windows
dreaming of grass
and wind in my whiskers

Katerina Marks
11 March 2016

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4 thoughts on “home

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