Poetry · Writing

The Grand Quest

For some

it doesn’t come 

in an envelope through 

a mail slot.

Didn’t show up

on our doorstep

engraved in evlen

and a large white hat.

Someone didn’t save

you from sand people

in the dune with tales

of your father.

The beginning moment

is shrouded in history,

unavailable until the peek.

Till the curtains are drawn.

A moment all reach and pass

without a second glance, 

shadowed beauty 

with a yellow umbrella. 

Will scour the books,

together.

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