a Favorite Place


A favorite place had not been a lucid stroll down a fashionable road.

Nor had it been a trinket I could honor with my mortality.

Nor could it be a light placed upon a severed tree, displayed in the melt.

A watered bauble…I cannot hold.

A favorite place strikes me as, everywhere I want to be, unintentionally.

It is not the curiosity that stirs me.100_1241

For I could not find a message in a bottle even with several attempts.

A favorite place strikes me as, everywhere I want to be, unintentionally.

 

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