those red butterflies take me back to the time when
those annoying crickets lulled me to sleep
dreamt I was barefoot on the gravel
running to that abandoned church
where those lost souls would be baptized
stood up high to pretend to speak
but I knew I wasn’t worthy
running back to the little, green house
the gravel biting at my soles
I whimpered and looked back –
you ran and didn’t even feel the rocks
you came laughing back,
your feet untouched
Beautiful metaphor. Pulls you in and can feel the movement as you read. So happy to have run across your blog as a fellow Tuberous Sclerosis and autism poet, blogger, mom (that was a mouth, or finger,-full).
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Hi Rebecca – I’m happy you found me, so I could find you, lol. Your blog is lovely – and I haven’t had a chance to read through your posts yet, but predict that I will understand all too well. Look forward to reading more! -take care
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