I met a woman who owned a lone house.

She kept it, as is,

for prosperity’s sake.

‘Can I help you?’ she quipped.

At the moment, I wished for isolation.

So a vague attempt was given to, wordy invitation.

Oh, to be as a stray thing…in control of my own destination.

The conversation remained subtle and soft.

As if to not hurt anyone’s sense of appeal.

And, thus, I stood struck dumb by the need to not feel.

A loner, extroverted, needs respite in which to breathe.

Such are the monsters, we feed.

This stranger did not tell me a story…

That I did not already know.

Whether unkempt or out in not green pastures.

There somethings we cannot let go.

We parted ways with the agreement…

That we would meet again, someday.

In the rear view of life…

Sometimes, it is only ‘remember when’ that makes us stay.

 

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