deepundergroundpoetry.com

John Smith's Repatriation

Upon his return
took a stroll down his old neighborhood
- no reason -
didn't really notice much...
Born there,
grew up there,
left with nothing, came back with even less...

Ideal strolls, he thought,
should, at least, signify presence.
His couldn't even ignite a single memory
- no surprise there -
He already knew, he always did,
an uneventful life, a life full of non events,
comes full circle
and when wet finds its rope to hang and dry...
takis1917
Written by takis1917
Published
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