Summer unwinds
Summer
unwinds, fledglings flown,
our insides
pile up in cardboard,
myriad
shapes battered & sealed,
dusted over
in the recesses.
We make
notes of contents,
relive each
thread of memory,
somewhat frayed
& greyed.
We sit in
boxes, peering out
of holes we
drilled ourselves,
even and
round. There are
no missing
pages or pictures;
we gathered
every single one.
Here we
are, waiting to be taken
somewhere new.
Waiting to be home.
Copyright Vickie
Johnstone, February 7, 2021
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