From Dust

Oh to be a forgotten poet
Deep in an old format file system
In some corner of the internet

In a bashed banana box
At the bottom of a second-hand shop

And to talk to you,
Living breathing lover of human verse
Who found me in the dust.
You are why I wrote.

In the poets tree, to be,
No trunkline verse,
But an abandoned branch.

Published by

capuchin

Send your life out in multiple directions like a galaxy shedding stars. Always come back to hope and try to thrive. All posts, (poems, stories, essays, etc.) here are composed by my hand, unless noted otherwise. Please ask if you'd like to use one.

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