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Angharad Jun 11
In the place I’d grown up,
I find myself still

Surrounded by mountains,
at the bottom of a hill

The trees that grow around me,
have watched me as I’ve aged

They’ve also watched as I’ve returned,
like a captive too long caged

For a while when I came back,
I urged to run away

But the magic in these mountains,
has saved me every day

When the dark comes knocking,
and I just want to run

I run towards the forest,
into dappled spots of sun

I sit there in the hour,
named after golden light

And in that orange daydream,
the dark is out of sight
When coming home in your 30’s is a bitter pill to swallow

— The End —