Locks, Knocks and Panes.

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Sometimes
the thing you need
comes knocking
at the door
in rhythms that your
nightmares use
and you
walk  over, timorous,
your doubt-locked knees
heavy and creaking.

You stand there
listening
knowing that staying
safe is better than running
into the darkness
breathing in
'I told you so'
and thinking
you should have said
'Go to the window
and knock again.'





Of all the things in life I need, This I Knead.

Share With Me.

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