In the shape of an ampersand
you sit, head held high, knees up
with your birdlike hands around them,
pregnant with plans that form in the womb
of your restlessness, your back against the wall.
Wow, very poignant this…how many times have I been exactly there..pregnant..with my back against the wall. Thanks for this.
thank you kay, nice to hear from you
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Ray Sharp, The Bard of Liminga