
The message collector is here.
The air rattles and clinks
with calls for help,
declarations of love,
promises to ourselves.
Once a week
they are scooped up,
mosaicking in brief shiny fragments,
to be forged anew.
A mixed bag of poems and other writings.
You let go gently
like softly collapsing sand,
impressions fading with each step,
leaving a dying warmth
of soft burnt orange
hanging in the air.
Cannot resist K. Hartless’s Petite Pen invitations …(https://khartless.com/2022/08/09/custard-cream-evening/)