Notebook
Little one, wrapped in black
swaddled close with leather strap
Tell me,
tell me,
where was I when I was last upon your spine?
I wish to see my dreams laid free
my wonderment, my merriment, my glee,
or was I much more morose
languidly staring at the gross reality of life?
Was I studying a book, had something to say once more?
I wish to know, but you are held shut tight
and I dare not remove you, dare not disturb your rest
tell me
tell me
where will I be by the end of your white purity?
I know only what is near, and what has passed
is far from here, but please, please, bear to me
what I will say when I am thirty three.
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