Tuesday, December 8, 2009


I am still here, scattered high in the wind
Not nearly part of the pages I wished I'd been in
Seeking out voices to speak for me with force
Thinking I'm alone like a child of divorce

I never found that group
That I sought in the faces
that passed me in the halls
without social graces

I look down, a leaf blowing on high
scraping the glass ceiling, my back to the sky
landing in places I wish not to go
mingling with people I don't wish to know

I am still here, scattered, as I travel
bouncing and twisting through blacktop and gravel
Decisions to be made soon, at a place not too far
Before the rain starts in, ever binding me to the tar

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