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May 2017
The next book is opened and the dots joined
and meanwhile I sip my tea.
Fingers trace patterns in a fogged window;
teeth marks in chocolate that tastes like yesterday.
Meanwhile a fire crackles
and a jumper warms and a light shines
while rain soaks and ice freezes
and meanwhile,
someone else is little.
Someone else is breaking open at the edges
I stand on the edge of everything in my head
and at the same time Iā€™m wrapped up tight,
meanwhile your favourite song plays
just as you pull up into the drive.

Stay a little. Let the battery die.
Martha O'Brien
Written by
Martha O'Brien  UK
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