Travelling

Moving away.
Making the grey corridors black.
A haversack of tools and grime.
An altogether unusual crime.
The fallen moment.
The motion that says something to you.
The longing.
It happens to us all.
And then it moves on,
don’t you know.
A lush deciduous forest.
A footfall.
Earth, dampness, leaves.
Earth, dampness, leaves.
An end.


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