The day she ran away from home
she didn’t pack a thing.
She just walked up the drive
and turned left and kept on walking,
Even the thistles didn’t dare ask her
where she was going. Even her shoes
were content to know nothing more
than one more step.
August 11, 2017 by Rosemerry
The day she ran away from home
she didn’t pack a thing.
She just walked up the drive
and turned left and kept on walking,
Even the thistles didn’t dare ask her
where she was going. Even her shoes
were content to know nothing more
than one more step.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged escape, poem, poetry | Leave a Comment
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