Slow by Carolyn Murray

Slow round the bend grin ravaged face as the thought of you and your theatrical technique: long coat, silver tipped cobra cane, whispered melodies of long ago times,  lingers a heart beat under bed keepsake.

 

I checked, still below, to compare and plenty of room to add to the formed living growth plant there beneath, plans overtime: repeat graveyard visits, seed dirt with chewed stick of gum permanent placement. Next time, #3 or #6, many so few, I’ll say “Hi”.