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RoutineEnvelope — 5
Published: 2010-03-06 13:29:21 +0000 UTC; Views: 201; Favourites: 0; Downloads: 4
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Description
My feet tickle and ache to stand somewhere new. Time wasI hated crossing the threshold to my home, passed the
Security of the door, the black number 5 and the knocker that I
Had forgotten all about. Mad attempts at crossing the road
Alone - riding bikes without stabilisers - all ended badly.
Time to let go, they say, dragging my roots into fresh earth,
It's not that far, just too far for me to convince myself I'm still
Here. Not far enough to justify the anxiety; further then, till home is
Something I ask about in letters, talk about with strangers.
It'll be the postscript of my conversations -
PS
It really wasn't that bad.