I see them all standing there
Mother behind her favorite chair
The dipping sun casts images on the wall
Exaggerating all
Like my little brother used to do
The past casts
Indelible shadows
On my now
When I write
I am too tame.
In the vice of habit,
I inhabit ground ploughed too long
Too often
Seeds wither and die
Words emerge like tired rabbits
Spending their last hop
Limping across my neatly lined page.
Happy to see a new post