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Window Seat

I can see the whole World from here
Everywhere I’ve been and the
postcard-only places of dreams.
Giant Atlantic waves crash so that
I can feel the joyful cold on my toes
memories and hopes.
The air thins and now I look at mountains
Giants with hair of snow and
long creeping fingers of ice.
Months and decades pass before
forests shoot from the ground
bringing with them a stray bluebell and families on daytrips.
I relax and the garden swims into view
from my childhood home,
no longer a too-hot summer but
a calm autumn morning
Then the world whispers back
but a little piece remains – a bunch of gardenias in a vase
in the window.



I wander the aisles
trying to get to know
him. Who I’ll never meet.
Trying to help and trying to learn.
The doors explode in
and sand flies across the floor.
Flashes of fear –
From a place unknown.
I’m tied up, packaged, sorted,
checked, listed, weighed,
measured, pulled apart, re-done,
confused and perhaps broken.
Unsure of making the journey –
whether anyone will be there
or are already gone.
Finally on my way.


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