883
studies
for seven ages
think
of childhood and it's gone
but
where it went we can still follow
crackle
of static to say
it's
slip away under
and
still taste it now
like
snow
like
fresh rain fallen
here's
the puffing house
for
winter
first
frost to sweeten
from
where the sun
first
was imagined
or
you'll say older than
then
it gets used to us
stops
complaining so much
it's
vanish if a world
and
stretched to it
planted
a letterbox mid-forest
by
woodsmoke in this rise of weeds
simple
breeze
and
all the letters came
look
up to stars
to
cloud
as
gone
where
it went
you
still can follow
it
isn't a place
where
we are
ReplyDeleteplanted a letterbox mid-forest
by woodsmoke in this rise of weeds
simple breeze
and all the letters came
I like this part very much.
it isn't a place
ReplyDeletewhere we are
I find this this really interesting and challenging, I often think we aren't stories, but all we do is tell stories, it isn't a place, where we are is a bit like this to me, as I think place is all but I don't understand it