Like gossamer
In mist it fades,
The recollections die,
Like clouds
That scud Horizons line
Then blend into the sky?

Like dreams that float
Upon the mind
To soothe away the hurt
Yet coalesce as meaningless
To mingle
With the dirt?

The condescension
Felt within,
The writhing of the gut....
Encompasses frustration felt
In sensing
Doorways, shut!

M.
Foxglove@Taranaki,NZ.
7 July 2022