Jaye Marie and Anita Dawes

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