I have no sense of place While I sit, I drench my mind with coffee I am a man whose thoughts jump back in time I crunch through snow Fists clenched against the cold Children’s mittens on a snowman No smoke from the old pipe Hanging from his mouth Too dark coals for his eyes I lift my head towards the sound a plane I am older now, the past Has tapped me on the shoulder I need to hire a dream maker Give me a quest to follow… ©AnitaDawes2022
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