#141 (a delicate shield)

grey clouds

weighing him down

someone stole some sleep

his dreams were found

drained on the bottom

of a landfill

his eyes open and close

in the rhythm of the typewriter

his grandmother left him

as a parting gift

escaping the feeds of misery

tucked into his shirt

a sprig of lilac blossoms

a delicate shield against the world

spring sun poured into petals

his thoughts in colour

once again

4th May2017

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