Of thoughts, some scattered


In the realms of the night,

the moonlight that shines the path in your dreams.

A magical land awaits,

of no longer sorrows and lay-lows.

The chariot awaits,

ready to fly.

You sit there scared, anxious

, in the corner.

Knees in your hands tell me a story,

but I dare not ask. I want to.

You know of a place,

a tale. But you wouldn’t tell me.

but I dare not ask. I want to.

I reminisce

(sometimes)

of the days when I wasn’t myself

the times when gloominess and despair

made their presence felt.

and in them you held my hand

guided me

through the swamps

and into the optimistic lands

of joy and peace.

A word of thanks

I haven’t uttered

I know not,

if it should be.

Yet I always have

to myself and carried on.

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