The only reason I agreed to move here
Was the way the sun lit the front room
The way it reflected on the wide pine boards
Their yellow imperfections
Which seem to let my life off the hook
But now after an early snow and the overwhelming
Permanence of coming winter
I can’t tell if it is the season change or this life
That feels so off course and uncorrectable
Like walking down a wrong street
You realize suddenly you have to retrace your steps to get back
But you walk purposefully in the wrong direction
Knowing to your inner most self
Eventually… eventually
You have to turn around
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