Poetry from Brianna Dawn.

memories, the unwelcome visitors

the grey world
took a long look
into the sun
a lonely shadow
creeped along
the spine of a book
turning pages
in my head, why
do i recite words
of pathways,
once tread and
long dead? i
shake their necks
like pockets for change
listening to the last
echoes of some
distant memory,
chiming like
coins across the
sidewalk, mind still
talking the talk
when no longer
walking the walk


© Tiny Fawns, 2018

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