April 11: Charlie (#NaPoWriMo #NaPoWriMo2020 #GloPoWriMo #Poetry)



Nobody warned me

that I would grow up,

or could, or should,

or had done so already.

It’s just that one morning,

as I startled awake,

a step was skipped,

a heartbeat missing.

There was no trauma,

really, just the kettle

blowing its whistle.

It’s coffee time.

Outside, all was quiet,

a refugee waiting

for the gates of his camp

to one day open.


(Image: “The Persistence of Memory” by Salvador Dali, Wikipedia)


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