Poetry · Writing

Blind Side

You are the mystery beyond the hill.

Drapped in shadows and silence you walked alone. I never

heard you coming up the stairs. You never returned my calls. 

Footsteps never smelled so sweet to the waiting whiff of cloudy anticipation in open arms. You walked 

alone so I wouldn’t know the path, so I wouldn’t follow your trail, so we would grow on different sides of this hill;

where I’ll be waiting.

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