Saturday, April 9, 2016


The Little Painted Gate

But the longer they spent
in that enchanted land,
the farther they wandered
amid narcotic blooms
and doe-eyed creatures
out of well-remembered legends,
the more bread crumbs
they dropped behind them,
all of which were swallowed
by small and timid things,
the fainter their memories
became of Mother, Father,
their own dear home,
and the Sisters at School,
until, blank slates, the children
were overwritten by that place,
becoming its creatures,
living in the moment,
large-eyed and lost to time.

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