poetry

quiet spaces

By Amy Thomson

Souls bound,
found pieces of my own
thrown under friend’s car seats,
dropped in side-streets,
wrapped in bedsheets
askew.

Places
like spaces between words
in loyal paperbacks,
in sidewalk cracks,
baggage unpacked,
I’m new.

Spotted
blue dotted between leaves,
ancient thread in Earth’s sleeves
weaves me to you,
a deja vu
soul glue.

Restored
by the cord that fastens
wild Pines to Aspens,
magic happens
in hazel pools
of two.

 

 

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