The streets were easier.
They had names
and filtered into other streets
and some had shops
or pubs that I’d been in
and I got used to the
changing seasons,
differing skies,
sunsets and rainfall
and still I knew them.
Yet as I write this
page is held down
by four fingers and a thumb,
innumerable tiny hairs,
freckles and lines,
marks and knuckles
I barely know.
And I realise
I no longer know that place
like the back of my hand.
More tomorrow...
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