Black Sheep

you suffer so distinctly

the real pressures of your age

at once it tingles

memories perhaps?

something similar, a familiar ghost?

i laugh my wizened words reach out and fan the breeze in front of me

and whisk it all away

it's fine, it's all so fine and everything is just as it should be

your turmoil is dark and fragrant

i breathe it in

its earthy green and pungent freshness

makes me yearn for long silent walks on deep rich sighs

the envy that i wear on my shoulders like a newly purchased wrap

offers me no comfort

and secures my distance from what

i wish i had again