Written in


A poem to prime my mind for writing prose.

Remember when there was a place
called a playhouse:
the world was of your own making:
Kingdoms and neighborhoods where rarely
something got took that didn’t need taking back:
A laugh looking on from the window,
that little shed you called ‘playhouse’
empty of everything but spare logs and the lawn mower
the world says it’s yours for the taking but
remember how big the worlds were
when you built them with valor and whim:


30 January 2021

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