Of things I had and did not know
I had a home that lay
under a bright blue sky
above a big blue sea.
I had a home
and it had a roof
that kept me dry when it rained.
bleach white walls
that kept out the wind.
wood for the fireplace…
that kept me warm.
A kitchen
with bread and butter
garden vegetables…
food that sizzled and popped when cooked
and it kept me from hunger.
There was a soft feather bed
it was so soft.
and when I left…
I had shoes
that kept me safe
from broken glass
and sharp rocks.
the kind of rocks upon which the sea
lashes with rage.
its fury
its frothy waves
its stormy loathing.
And when the storm ended?
I had eyes
for the rainbows after such storms.
for the calm ripples, rolling sand.
for the diamond sprinkled water.
for the morning light through magenta clouds
for all the things that were meant
only for you and me.
And now?
All I have now is a tongue…
to tell of the things I had
and did not know.
and to taste the air,
a salty tear.
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